


Nepenthes

by Athgalla



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood, Blow Jobs, Human Experimentation, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Whump, and learning to be slightly less horrible to each other, emphasis on slightly., kinda hints of Shiro/Yuri too but mostly focused on them being pals, maybe hypnosis if you squint, the grand tale of Shiro and Meph falling madly in lust with each other, touches on that at least I'll put a head's up in the notes though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athgalla/pseuds/Athgalla
Summary: If Shiro Fujimoto is anything, he's a kid full of gumption and more than ready to take on whatever the Order can throw at him. Mephisto finds himself charmed, thrilled to watch events unfold now that the boy has willingly waltzed past the point of no return. As time goes on, perhaps a little whisky and a lot of long chats are all it takes to move from bitterness to cautious camaraderie.Also, s/o to TheBeingOfEverything for being massively helpful in fixing all this up! Btw their writing rules and you should read Incandescence and Briar Rose Syndrome and, well, everything else!





	1. Purple Columbine

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one-shot that got wildly out of hand. I've been slowly building around it to explore the development of Mephisto and Shiro's relationship over time because I love those bastards too much. 
> 
> Smut incoming in future chapters and all that jazz but I'll have a head's up for that when relevant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple columbine means "resolved to win"

_1971_

“I’m here like you asked,” Shiro grumbled, stepping forward as the large door of the office clacked shut behind him. At the other side of the room, Mephisto leaned forward over his desk, curiosity and grim interest plastered across his ashen face. Feeling his hands quivering, Shiro steeled himself and swallowed hard. 

The demon smiled broadly at the small boy, “Do come in, have a seat.” 

Shiro obliged with a grimace as he clambered into one of the chairs across from the desk. It hadn’t been a dream – it was still as ostentatious in here as it was last week, and he wasn’t quite sure whether it filled him with envy or disgust. He shifted his attention back to Section 13’s director as he continued speaking. 

Mephisto steepled his fingers, continuing, “Now, does your decision still stand?” 

Shiro nodded confidently. Like hell he’d even consider turning back. “Yes.” 

“Oh?” A thin brow went up in interest, “And you have given it more thought since our last meeting? Remember, this is not your ticket to freedom, and it’s a far cry from an easy ride,” 

“I understand. I want to be an exorcist,” Shiro affirmed, squaring his shoulders and trying to ignore the smug gaze that mocked him, “I thought we had an agreement. You’re not going to break your word, are you?” 

Mephisto chuckled, “A suspicious child, I see. That’s not necessarily a bad thing – it’s good to have doubts. Anyhow, no, I won’t. We _did_ make a deal, didn’t we?” 

“We did.” 

“Then I intend to uphold that…providing you do, too,” he narrowed his eyes. A rush of apprehension surged down Shiro’s spine and he swallowed again. 

“I- I do. And no way am I yielding to a demon, ever,” his voice was the sound of conviction itself despite the stutter.

-and if the bastard demon could hear his rapid heartbeat it wasn’t his business, anyway.

Nodding thoughtfully, Mephisto pressed his fingers to his lips, “Hmm… understood. Well, I trust you’ll do a fine job with that gumption and wit of yours, providing you can learn to work with others and take an order once in awhile,” 

Shiro looked away in contempt of the condescending chiding and scoffed, “Feh, we’ll see.” 

“Heheh, I suppose we will.” 

Shiro grumbled something non-complementary under his breath, crossing his arms as he settled back into the chair and blew his bangs out of his eyes, “Right. That’s out of the way, so when do I start training? Do I get a uniform? When do I get my room? Exorcists get their own rooms, right? Because that’s what I heard,” 

Mephisto stifled his amusement, though Shiro still saw it in the twitch of his lips as he hid a smile as if to say, “_The nerve on this kid…”_

Well, it wasn’t like he didn’t get that from everyone he met, and it hadn’t stopped him yet.

“You’ll begin next week. We’ll get everything in order for you today, sound fair? And you’ll get your room eventually, but you will not have your own as a mere page. I guess you’ll just have to get along with some new people and work for it.” 

Great. Shiro glared up into the green eyes glinting down at him but held back the further complaints. He’d at least gotten _some_ of what he’d wanted, and even he understood a beggar couldn’t be a chooser.

“Mh….” 

“Anyway, if you’d follow me, we can go over some things to get you started, and-” Shiro jolted when Mephisto suddenly appeared before him, tipping his chin up with his gloved hand, “-First rule is, don’t listen to a demon’s flattery. It’s also not a good idea to look them in the eye too long, that’s how they exploit you,” he punctuated his advice with a wink. 

“Hey! What’s that-“ 

“No more questions for now, come along~” 


	2. Oleander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through strife and skill, Shiro has finally been inducted as a full fledged exorcist. However, his new professional status pushes him closer to the demon king handing out orders, and his scuffle with Rick and Yuri in Mexico isn't helping matters in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins the habit of ever deepening chats over whisky  
Hoo boy.
> 
> Oleander indicates caution

_1982_

“I dub thee Knight,” 

Shiro knelt before Shemihaza and the other Grigori. He kept his eyes forward, steeling himself against the gaze he felt piercing into him from somewhere in the crowd. That jackass was staring him down, of course. As he stood, he ignored him, skirting over the top of the green and purple head of hair, and nodding curtly to the crowd before marching off, leaving the next inductee in line to come forward. 

In the throngs of people, Mephisto smirked. What an excellent day, such an excellent ceremony this year. 

The buzz of conversation and heat of crowded bodies was nothing short of overwhelming. Shiro’s eyes darted among the people, noting others in his cohort being surrounded by friends, family and mentors – hugged and smothered in congratulations – _loved_. He snarled to himself.

_What a farce all this crap is. _

Somewhere to his right, he heard a familiar voice call out to him. He refused to look towards the source, throwing up a middle finger and searching urgently for a way out. Shouldering his way roughly through the crowd, he didn’t offer a word or look beyond a glare to a single soul. 

With a final shove, he found his way outside, drawing in a breath of air. The cool breeze on his face was a welcome relief and the dulled noise let him quiet his mind. 

The momentary peace was broken by the click of footsteps drawing near behind him. Shiro turned after a moment of disgruntled internal debate, not prepared to bother with a conversation. 

“Ah, Shiro, may I offer my heartfelt congratulations? I knew you’d make exorcist soon enough!” the chipper baritone set a heavy pit in Shiro’s stomach. 

The last person- not that any other would have been okay, either- that he wanted to see had shown his smirking face.

“…sure, whatever. When do I get my card and room?” Shiro grunted when he realized he couldn’t escape this conversation, no matter how much he wanted to. 

“Not mincing words. I appreciate that.” Mephisto murmured, though Shiro wondered how honest that statement was, “No worries. You’ll receive your card tomorrow, I’ll even send it to you personally. We have your housing arranged as well, so no need to fuss. That information will come with your card and you can start moving in straight away.” 

More waiting. Shiro didn’t bother hiding his heavy sigh or irritation, “You can’t just give it to me _now_?” 

Mephisto’s pleasant expression dropped at his question, a mutter reaching Shiro, “The nerve on this kid.”

Before he could snap a response back- because, seriously? The bastard didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to nerve- Mephisto had continued.

“You’re not special. You’ll get it at the same time as everyone else,” his mood shifted again, brightening significantly, “But! I would truly like to congratulate you properly! I’ll be hosting a party for all this year’s inductees. That means, of course, that you’re invited! I’d like to chat with you privately as well, if you’d like to meet with me for a drink beforehand? Say, tomorrow at 5, at my residence? The party will follow shortly after. I believe your friends will be attending~” 

A party? On the one hand, having to be around his fellow exorcists was always a drag. Shiro cast a grudgingly considerate frown at Mephisto. But on the other hand, a party meant free food and, most important of all, free booze. “I’ll consider it, but don’t try and con me into this bullshit. What friends, anyway?” 

“Mmm, I see. Well, the invitation is open and I’d like to see you, but I’ll leave it at that.” 

Wanted to see him, huh? Shiro wanted to call bullshit again. Something in the soft smile on Mephisto’s face had him grunting and nodding his assent instead. 

With a soft smile still lingering, Mephisto tipped his hat to him and disappeared. 

\--

The appointed hour had come and gone. In the background, Belial fussed over more of the hideously obnoxious decorations that his master had insisted upon. Mephisto had stood in silence for some time now, fidgeting aimlessly with a spool of neon paper streamers and staring intently at the door. 

“As expected.” He muttered, a tinge of both weariness and irritation coloring his voice. 

Belial turned to him in concern, tensing at the possibility of a mood swing, “Sir?” 

A light chuckle and dismissive wave met him in response, “It’s nothing. Carry on.” 

_Shiro, you petulant thing. _Somehow, he felt a touch of disappointment. He knew it was unlikely Shiro would accept, but being slighted was never something he was particularly fond of. Many times the slighter only lived to regret it because Mephisto needed them later. The ones he didn’t need, well, they didn’t often make it that far.

\--

Shiro made his way through busy streets. He’d hesitated for hardly a second at the turn that would take him to Mephisto and that godforsaken party. 

He shrugged to himself. _Fuck him._ A greasy tavern would be better and truer reward than the nonsense that bastard could offer.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Shiro sighed as he kicked his shoes off. _What an ordeal_. Being shouted at by Osceola and Lucy was embarrassing enough, and no doubt it wasn’t over with yet. For a second, he almost questioned his temper – why did he lash out like that? Sure, he had reason to be irritated with Yuri’s recklessness and dangerous acceptance of demons, but that Rick kid had hardly said a word. 

He shook his head to break that train of thought.

Either way, Rick had interfered – he should have noticed Shiro was upset and kept his damn mouth shut. Cheery, overly generous people like him were annoying. Every person like that was either a conman or delusional, anyway.

Yeah.

Shiro’s thoughts came to a screeching halt as he took note of an envelope sitting on his counter. It looked like something left by a little girl, covered in poorly done doodles and colorful stickers. 

_Who the hell…?_

Hesitantly, he picked it up, casting a glance around the dingy apartment. Was someone fucking with him? He tore it open, pulling out the letter inside – written on high-quality stationery. The ink looked rich and smooth, in stark contrast to the bubbly and childish script it was wasted on. 

_Dear Fujimoto,_

_I am glad to hear of your safe return from Mexico. I hope you were able to get to know our members from other branches a little better! Despite the success of the mission, I’m disappointed to hear about the altercation between you and some of the other new exorcists. The Japan Branch’s reputation is important, as is the deportment of our exorcists! I’d like to discuss this matter with you as soon as possible. As this was your first big far-off mission, take your time to settle in again and consider just what went wrong on this little escapade – I’ll send for you this evening. _

_I look forward to chatting! _

_With staggering disappointment in your behavior, _

_Mephisto*Pheles_

Shit.

The day passed, in turns too slow and way too fast. Late afternoon brought sunbeams casting themselves through Shiro’s windows. He swallowed nervously, realizing his meeting with Mephisto crept ever closer. He considered bailing, just running anywhere in town and hoping he wouldn’t be found. 

The conversation could wait, couldn’t it? Did Mephisto talk to Yuri yet? What did Osceola say to him, or Lucy, for that matter? Genuine nervousness washed over him for the first time in a long while. 

If he could win Mephisto’s favor as a kid even while shouting at and threatening him, surely he wouldn’t retaliate too much now? However, reputations were on the line this time, and that was probably an entirely different matter to the demon. Where should he even wait? Who was coming to fetch hi- 

“Hey! The _fu-_?” the world lurched and his vision went black for a fleeting moment. With a stumble, he regained his balance, finding himself in Mephisto’s office. The demon himself sat at his desk, head low, mouth concealed by folded hands, brow furrowed pensively, slit-pupiled eyes more intense than ever. Shiro took a shuddering breath, ready to spit venom at Mephisto for the sudden teleportation, but for once, thought better of it. 

“’Evening, Fujimoto.” Mephisto’s voice was low and placid. A threat. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

His throat felt like it stuck together at the swallow he took before he could get his mouth working, “I… I got pissed off, alright?! We could have- we could have just destroyed the golem and gotten it over with without a fuss-“ 

“That’s not relevant.” 

The sharp rebuttal stopped Shiro cold. Something in the inner glow of the acid green eyes pinned to his prevented him from speaking.

“You struck a subordinate without provocation. You nearly attacked Yuri Egin, and would have had Redarm not held you back, according to his report. In fact, he went on to tell me that Rick was simply offering you a drink.” 

Shit. Mephisto had gotten the story already. 

But it didn’t look like he was finished flaying Shiro for his deeds, yet.

“First, you suggest we destroy an important cultural artifact and then you let your temper get out of hand? How unbecoming.” He dropped his hands, tutting to himself and leaning back in his chair, “Whatever shall we do? I’m nearly regretting allowing you to be knighted. Explain yourself.” 

Shiro ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves and put together a strategic response. Mephisto was boxing him in, and, admittedly, he didn’t have much to fall back on in this situation, “Yuri could have gotten killed if she was wrong. I was angry-” He paused, fighting the way Mephisto’s eyes bore into him until he couldn’t anymore and blurted out, “-and scared. I was angry and scared.” 

A raised brow from unimpressed features met his explanation, “You honestly doubt Egin? I have more faith in _her_ in battle than I ever will in you at this rate- for one, she works well with her team- and _she_ doesn’t even care for a fight. But…” a flicker of a smirk, “It seems you feared for her safety.”

Did the bastard have to bring that part up? Shiro already regretted mentioning it, knowing he’d never live it down if Mephisto had anything to say about it. And he always did.

“You think this is any way to express that?” Mephisto said with another pointed look, “Do what you will, but don’t make _me_ look bad in the process, and don’t leave yourself vulnerable like that – you _do_ know it opens you to attack from demons after all this time, I’d hope. You could be a solid tamer, too, if you actually took that lesson to heart.” 

Was he done? Reluctance had Shiro dropping his head and to offer a skittish bow, unable to think of any other response, “Y-yes. Understood.” A pause, and Shiro’s voice came softly, dreading the answer, “…what will you do?” 

Would he follow through on his threat to remove his Knight ranking after all? This moment could be the end to Shiro’s entire life. Back to the cold walls of Section Thirteen. Back to the inevitable madness. Back to the torture.

Back to the fate he would share with so many others of his siblings.

Back to ending up like Goro. In comparison, being killed outright sounded like mercy.

Snickering jolted Shiro’s head back up, eyes widening at the uproarious laughter Mephisto burst into, smacking his desk and nearly doubling over. Shiro straightened, watching him in dumbfounded silence. 

Then indignation boiled through him. 

Finally regaining his composure, Mephisto got to his feet, wiping at his eyes, “Goodness, Shiro! That was excellent. Bravo!” 

Shiro blanched, searching wildly when Mephisto disappeared. He swung around in time to see him reappear and flop lazily into a chair behind him, tracing inane patterns in the air with a long finger, “Oh, that’s for you to do to yourself. Go talk to Yuri. I spoke with her already, she’s been very receptive, too. But, she also got a good word put in for her by both Redarm and Yang.”

Shiro scowled, of course she had. He doubted he would get the same- not that he even wanted it, dammit. Mephisto didn’t seem to care, still grinning that shark’s grin.

“Tsk! You ragged thing. How about a belated drink to celebrate your first big away mission’s hmm… _relative_ success, seeing as how you stood up my last invitation?” 

An annoyed twitch started under his eye. Shiro wanted to question just what the _fuck _all this was, but something in the way Mephisto was staring him down gave him pause. He cast his gaze to the side with an unimpressed chuff. Of course, avoiding Mephisto’s invitation would probably come back to bite him, and now wasn’t the time to risk that. “Fine. I’ll humor you.” 

“You like whisky, don’t you?”

Did he like whiskey? He liked whatever cheap drinks he could get his hands on. But he wouldn’t say no to whatever Mephisto was offering from his stash, “Yeah. What do you have?” 

His question garnered a haughty grin as Mephisto offered Shiro a glass before allowing him to look over the bottle, not bothering to contain his amusement at the exasperated eye-roll Shiro gave him after he saw the name, “Toki. Yeah. Of course.” 

“Naturally! Am I _not _supposed to collect anything relevant to _me?_” 

Shiro snorted, “Seems a little narcissistic,” 

“Attention is nice, you know this,” Mephisto retorted, tone blithe as he took a sip of his drink, “Anyhow, how are things?” 

That earned suspicious look. What did he care about Shiro’s wellbeing beyond checking that he was upholding his end of the deal? But Mephisto expected an answer so he tossed one out, “Well, I’m not dead yet, whatever that’s worth.” 

“Been having some fun, hmm? Cutting loose now that you’ve been inducted?” Mephisto cocked his head with a wry smile. 

Shiro’s face went hot, eyes locking with the reptilian gaze staring back. The bright green held his attention and only added fuel to his embarrassment, “I- What?” _The hell did he know now? _

A purred, singsonged hum answered his sputtering, as Mephisto ran a finger over the top of his glass, “What, you think word of a heartbreaker like you doesn’t spread quickly here? Well, in any case, it’s nice that you’re finding some form of freedom while you can.” 

Mephisto’s tone darkening on his last statement made Shiro’s blood go cold. 

Bringing his drink to his lips- his hand trembled, _dammit_, why was his hand trembling-, he watched and waited, both desperately hoping Mephisto would elaborate and desperately hoping he would not. 

But all that met his frozen stare was a mocking smile and knowing gaze before Mephisto moved on with more small talk. It didn’t matter, Shiro felt the prod about his future in his bones the rest of the conversation and its echo long afterwards. He still preferred this life to the one he’d narrowly escaped, always would, but something in the way Mephisto spoke about freedom reminded him how fleeting and fickle it was, if it even existed.


	3. Pimpernel and Pansy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro decides to enter seminary - mostly on a rebellious whim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pimpernel is the flower of change, and heartease pansy means "think of me"

_1983_

Shiro swung one leg over the other, relaxing into his usual chair. 

Mephisto swiveled to and fro behind his desk, grinning like an overexcited and exceptionally devious child, “Seminary_? You? _My, my, Shiro! I have to say, I’m quite surprised!” 

“I’m full of ‘em,” Shiro’s tone was level, betraying little. 

“Of course you are,” Mephisto laughed mockingly, “But what’s your reasoning?” His damned, smug gaze seemed to say, “_Could it be you’re running from something?” _

Shiro rolled his shoulders before settling back again, “Huh, just… feels right, you know?” _The fuck did he want to know for, anyway? Like he’d tell Mephisto when he hardly understood it himself. _He half hoped Mephisto would urge him away from it, this path he had stumbled on. 

Mephisto pondered for a moment before speaking, “Hmm… I could hazard a few guesses. But, regardless, I give you my full and unquestioning support!” 

“Bullshit. I don’t want it.” The hope of rebellious thrill was immediately snuffed out. 

“Alright, I guess you wouldn’t mind a cut in pay, or no stipend for attendance? No-“ 

“Just…scratch that, then…” Shiro muttered crossly.

Mephisto raised an eyebrow, “You do understand that to be a clergyman, you are expected to have a certain… _disposition_, yes? And to start resisting earthly desires. You’ll be expected to live apart from them for quite some time,” 

Shiro chuckled darkly, “The way I see it, may as well mardi gras this shit until I start, then, eh? It’s not like I could experience much worse than I have already, and it’s not like I’m a stranger to strict routines.” 

“I can’t tell you what to do in that case. Do what you will, but I suppose a decision like this could prove useful. I know you’re probably terribly busy these days, but would you fancy a drink before you go? I’ve still got some Toki with your name on it.” 

The knowing edge in his tone was unsettling, making Shiro shift uncomfortably in his seat. Green eyes gleamed, staring at Shiro as if he were the most interesting specimen in a butterfly collection. He felt pinned, on display, his truths bared to the creature that could just as easily offer him a companionable drink as allow him to be locked in a lab and experimented on until he lost his mind or died. 

The realization of what he’d just backed himself into pushed at the edges of his consciousness. Shiro thought he would take him up on that drink.

“It’s not like I’ve got much of anything better to do,”

Mephisto snapped, presenting Shiro with his glass. With a smile, he cocked his head and rested it on his hand, “Thankfully, neither do I. It sounds like you’ve got a lot on your mind these days, and so do I. How was taking care of that call the other day, anyway? I sent you with Rick, didn’t I?”

By now, the sun had faded on the horizon, giving way to darkness stained by the city lights. What Shiro had hoped would be a brief conversation had stretched out, the time having slipped by him faster than expected. He wasn’t sure if accepting the invitation for a drink was a mistake or a blessing, and either way the conversation and alcohol had left his mind muddled. With a grunt, he got to his feet.

“It’s late…”

“To you,” Mephisto retorted playfully, “Get some rest. You’ll be useless working tomorrow otherwise,”

Shiro shot him a look, moving for the hall that would take him to the door.

“Before you go…”

He paused, apprehension skittering through his bones as he turned back to listen.

Mephisto held him sternly in his gaze, “I expect you to follow through on this. You’ve made a wise choice, for once.”

The veiled undertone of a threat chilled him. Shiro swallowed hard and nodded dumbly before hurrying off. Moments before, Mephisto’s company had started to feel strangely comfortable, but now Shiro felt like he couldn’t escape his piercing gaze and smooth voice fast enough. Mephisto smiled, a slow scrawl across his face, after the rapidly retreating form. How endearing Shiro was when put on edge, and how excellent it felt when things so effortlessly fell into place.

***** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *****

The alarm that pierced through the haze of sleep spurred a dull rage in Shiro. This rigid schedule was a harsh callback to his training as an exorcist, and the drag of early morning starts was especially unwelcome. Reluctantly, he sat up and shut off the clock with a gruff smack. If anything made mornings worse, it was the dreadfulness of being helpless and alone with his thoughts as the minutes crept agonizingly by. 

If any God was listening, he almost hoped it would stop his pitiful heart. Sure, he at least enjoyed studying and had found a strange affinity for delving into pharmaceuticals, but between continuing work and keeping up with seminary he felt more trapped than ever.

For better or worse, he’d hardly heard from Mephisto. The last he’d done was grant him a month of no missions outside of any emergencies that might come up, and the apparent mercy worried him. There was always a catch with Mephisto and waiting to discover whatever the catch was filled him with trepidation. 

The clanging of bells pulled him from his mental trappings. He opted to count his blessings for now, and not being bothered by that jackass was certainly a blessing.

Wait.

…had he just spent a half hour practically meditating on _Mephisto_? Shiro cringed at himself, questioning whether he was slowly going mad, and deciding after the hellish time he was having that it was definitely the case.


	4. Mayflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's got a break from seminary and needs a goddamn drink, first of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been chaos but it feels really good to properly get back into writing after all these years.  
Also I'm becoming more and more charmed by Rick, he's just such a great dude okay? I love him.
> 
> Mayflower signifies something new or budding.

_1984_

“Hey! It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve really seen you!” Rick’s voice was bright as ever. Shiro felt another wash of shame – as time went on, it was agonizingly apparent that the only thing punchable about Rick was how just… _too nice _he was. Granted, the same applied for Yuri. 

Stuttering over his natural inclination to snap some waspish response out and the realization that it really wasn’t necessary in this case, he fell into step beside Rick. 

“Y-yeah, that’s true.. how are things going on the, uh… outside world, I guess?” A nervous chuckle. 

Rick laughed in turn, seeming to gloss over Shiro’s unusual softness, “Alright, I guess! I’ve been helping Yuri edit the textbook she’s working on. I know she’s looking for extra eyes, so if you want to take a look I bet she’d appreciate it. Oh, and you remember Makiko?” 

Shiro nodded, a licentious glint darting across his ruddy eyes, “Yeah, that one gal with the- I mean, yeah!” 

Rick glowered, punching Shiro sharply in the arm, “Hey now! But yeah, we’ve been talking and hanging out a lot more lately. I don’t know if… you know, I don’t know where that’s going, but I think I want to ask her out at some point. You probably think that’s lame, though,” 

“No…I,” Shiro’s face softened, “I wouldn’t say that’s lame. It’s… it’s nice, I guess. I hope it works out.” Something pulled at him. Before he could decipher what, he pushed the sudden unwanted emotion away like an offending gnat. 

Rick’s nose crinkled with a broad, gentle grin, an errant strand of red hair catching the sunlight as it fell across his face, “Glad to hear it. You’ve really grown. I’d say you’re at least ten percent more chilled out since I last saw you, Shiro.” 

“You don’t know the half of it. I’d argue I’m at least twice as wired up. Do you know how _stifling _this seminary business is? Everything’s just… it’s honestly almost more rigid than training to be an exorcist was. Sure, I’m probably more productive right now, I’ve been studying medical texts in my off time and getting a lot done. But I want to claw my skin off! There’s no girls! I can’t cut loose! And all this _on top of _missions that Sir Pheles throws at me. I think I’m gonna go mad without a drink at this rate.” 

“Pfff, yeah it sounds like you really do need to get drunk and probably laid before you totally lose it,” Rick chortled, “There’s a reason I didn’t tag after you,”

“You’re fuckin’ telling _me_?! At this rate, I’d almost take _you _to bed!” 

Rick blushed, then broke out into a hearty laugh, slapping Shiro on the back, “And you’re hilarious as ever saying shit like that with a straight face! Calm down, it’s alright. Do you want to go out with Yuri, Makiko, and I tonight? They’d love to see you.” 

Shiro shook his head, admittedly crestfallen at missing a chance to see Yuri again, “Sorry, I can’t tonight. I’m home the next couple weeks though, I can call you so long as none of us are shoved out on some bullshit mission and we’ll do something together soon,”

Rick’s tone turned inquisitive and teasing, “Oh? You got a date or something?” 

Shiro felt a jolt run down his spine, “Euhh- No, no, I’m meeting with Sir Pheles,” 

“What for? Sounds pretty important… your ears are all red. Get in trouble again?” 

_And is it your business? _Shiro buried his hands in his pockets, “Just to talk. I think he wants updates on how seminary is going. He kind of strong-armed me into it, otherwise I’d totally bail on him.” 

Rick raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “Oh? That’s interesting. Let us know how it goes! He always seems pretty entertaining the few times I’ve talked to him directly, kinda uncanny though, but that’s not really a shocker.” 

“Tell me about it. He’s something.” Shiro made no attempt to hide the derision dripping from his words.

“I’d honestly watch yourself. If he’s been taking such an interest in you, you might be up for a promotion. I’m jealous!” Rick beamed. 

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Shit, Rick. Don’t be, I don’t need some promotion anyway. That’s just more work. Gimme a raise and I’m happy.” 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

It was a few hours into the night. A game of Pong sat long abandoned. Shiro lay sprawled out on the floor, Mephisto stretched out across his bed on his stomach, long arms dangling off the edge.

Shiro craned his head to look up at the demon, limbs feeling limp and staticky with the influence of alcohol. Mephisto peered back down at him, long eyelashes almost obscuring the burning green behind them. He almost seemed, well, pretty. Shiro tensed at the thought.

Strangely, today Mephisto had not pursued the many, threatening tangents he had in the past times he’d roped Shiro into… whatever this thing was they did. Few cryptic words left him – today he’d been direct, somberly letting Shiro vent about seminary and laughing callously at his struggles. 

Despite the cruel mockery, he let the conversation drift to more benign things this time, almost inquisitive in his efforts to find new surface details of Shiro. He even listened attentively to things that typically would bore him, like Shiro slurring through anecdotes about Yuri, mission misadventures with her and Rick, and wistful questions about Jenny that received no answer.

Some drinks and laughter gave way to a heated umpteen rounds of Pong, which in turn gave way to whatever hazy exhaustion they shared now. Shiro giggled to himself as he sluggishly drank in his surroundings. Mephisto’s room was ridiculous looking, but it was an interesting treat to see. Were he sober, the sheer gaudiness of it and the harsh realization that half the money that could go to exorcists’ pitiful paychecks, dorm improvements, and more got pissed into this nonsense would have irked him beyond comprehension.

Still, he supposed not everyone found themselves this close to a demon king. In the safety of his own mind, he could admit it was interesting, even if the king in question was a massive nuisance of a being. 

“You’re laughing, worm, why’re you laughing?” Mephisto slurred, batting halfheartedly at Shiro’s unruly hair. Shiro instinctively blocked the arm, but, realizing there was no threat, let his own drop. 

His fingers lingered as they traced down the back of Mephisto’s hand. It was somewhat bony, but his skin was soft, his claws strong and dark and menacing. They betrayed the beguiling smile that beamed at him from above, a hint to the insurmountable power Shiro now found himself alone and intoxicated with. 

Something about it sent a rush through him – did he even hold any sway over a creature like Mephisto? Did these meetings put him above the rest of the people who never got to see him like this? Likely not, he was sure he wasn’t even the first to get coerced into Mephisto’s company, but it was fun to pretend. 

He did know he could, at least, significantly upset Mephisto by kicking his ass at Pong. 

Mephisto, meanwhile, found himself scrutinizing the details of Shiro’s face more carefully than usual. 

His expression was probably the most open he had ever seen it, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He wondered what other faces he could draw out of the man, this delightful human, so full of contradictions. 

As it were, his thoughts drifted to baser topics – curious and thrilling to speculate on. Shiro had probably considered it, too, at least in a nightmare or two. Not only was that amusing as ever, but flattering.  
Of course he’d dreamt it, at the bare minimum. Mephisto wondered whether thoughts like that would ever boil to the surface of Shiro’s mind, and though it was not his intent at first, he found himself growing more interested in the possibility.

Any hopes of pursuit for the current moment faded, however, when Mephisto realized Shiro had fallen asleep, clawing scattered blankets and pillows nearer and clinging to them possessively. There was no fun without some fair chase, anyhow. Leaving such musings to another time, the king chuffed softly and rolled over. 

It would be intriguing to see Shiro’s response to waking in a demon’s den, hangover and all.

He settled in to wait for the explosion.

\---

Shiro opened an eye halfway, letting it slide shut again after registering his immediate surroundings. It was still dark, it seemed, and he fully intended to take advantage of sleeping in as much as he could over his break. Hopefully no phone calls to missions would interrupt the fleeting peace.

“Did you sleep well?”

Interesting. He could swear that sounded like Mephisto. He snorted to himself in partial disgust, partial amusement, nuzzling into a bizarrely luxurious pillow that smelled an awful lot like-

Bleary realization crept over him, building up until it cracked like a gunshot through his mind.

Snapping to attention, he shot up with a gasp, a snap of fingers overhead marking an explosion of light into the room that struck agonizing fire straight into his skull and had him groaning, clenching his eyes shut until the vertigo sorted itself out somewhat. 

Once his eyes adjusted, a lanky figure looming across the room sharpened into focus. Shiro felt ready to faint.

“What’s this shit about?” He demanded, voice still rough from sleep and mind clumsily trying to catch up.

Mephisto hummed a careless note to himself, shutting the blinds again, “You sound so cute like that, fufufu~ I can’t say I care much for light, either- you can stop squinting now, Shiro- as to your question, it’s simple, you got overzealous with your whisky and decided to overstay your welcome by falling asleep on my floor.”

“Why didn’t you just send me home, then?” Shiro spat, the strange situation not helped by the weight and pain of his hangover, “what did you do to me?”

“Settle down. How rude would I be if I woke you when you looked so comfortable? Don’t worry, I didn’t move you at all. To be frank, I mostly just wanted to see the look on your face – it was well worth it, by the way. You should see yourself right now!” Mephisto looked as unnerving and charmingly lively as ever.

Shiro huffed, incensed at the ridicule.

Mephisto flashed a tight smile, voice now edged with austerity, “Well, as I said, you’ve quite overstayed your welcome. Thank you for the lovely evening and have an interesting day! Eins, zwei, drei! Auf wiedersehen!”

Shiro knew he should be more used to being blinked elsewhere by now, but the lurching and fleeting blackout still shocked him. His feet steadied on the stone outside the mansion.

“Jesus fuck, you jackass! You couldn’t even send me home?” He shouted at the window, as if it would do anything. 

Muttering to himself, he dug around in his pockets for a cigarette, desperate for a bit of respite for the long trudge back to his apartment.


	5. Red Columbine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fun thing about time is that our lives seem to operate on a spiral   
We come back to the same place with a fresh perspective, over and over again  
Section 13 is one of those places with a particularly special gravity about it 
> 
> Once again, be it from simple foolhardy grit or something greater, Shiro has pushed himself into a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red columbine is a flower that signifies anxiety

_1985_

Shiro was drifting dangerously close to a breaking point. Seminary, obligations to the Order, keeping some meager semblance of contact with the few friends he could admit to having now, and trying to maintain some scrap sanity all made for a heavy yoke to bear. It was enough to feel like boulders pinning him down. Enough that hearing the baritone that usually set an icy pit in his stomach was a strangely welcome relief this time. 

“Shiro Fujimoto! I hear you have a break starting tomorrow. Would you like to stop by for a drink again?” 

Fuck it, why not?

“To tell you the truth? Absolutely.” Shiro grumbled around his cigarette.

He could even ignore the Cheshire smile on the bastard’s face that seemed to mock him for giving in so easily. Whatever, Shiro needed the break and if Mephisto offered, he figured he’d accept and deal with the consequences after. A nod from Shiro, a tip of the hat from Mephisto, and they carried on in opposite directions, footsteps fading down the sun-dappled sidewalk.

_Bingo. The stubborn quarry waltzes in willingly, now? _

Mephisto smiled at the immediate acceptance of his offer from Shiro. It had only taken- how many years? The small span of a human existence could make each passing moment seem so infinitesimally brief.

\---

Night had long since fallen. Small talk gave way to banter. It seemed customary that silence fell around now, signifying another transition once inhibitions loosened enough. 

“So…” Shiro began.

This had grown routine. “Yes, I’m the king of time. What of it?”

Shiro shot a sharp look in his direction before letting his head drop again. He lay across a striped couch, having moved from his usual chair to study the patterns in the ceiling, “Yeah… I guess we do this a lot, huh?”

Mephisto nodded curtly, taking another sip of his whisky.

“You kinda freak me out,” Shiro mumbled, rubbing at his forearm, “you’re always plotting something.

Mephisto glanced at him from the corner of his eye, “Hm?”

Shiro forced a wry chuckle, “It’s crazy. And still, I wish I even knew what I wanted to ask you half the time.”

“You’re drunker than usual tonight, I don’t think I’ve seen you like this in a year. Anyway, curiosity is an admirable trait, but be mindful of the answers you seek and how you go after them,” Mephisto said flatly, drawing long fingers through his bangs while he waited for Shiro’s response.

Shiro grumbled at the prod, “Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m slowing down. I just kinda wanna know how it works, you know? I kind of get it, but… when you get jurisdiction over the whole universe, why are regular jackoffs like me- or _anyone-_ so interesting? How is any of this even _remotely _interesting? I wouldn’t bat an eye in the direction of this whole godforsaken planet if I were you.”

Mephisto smiled at the graceless attempts to figure him out. Not even his own brothers, the Ba’al understood why he preferred Assiah to Gehenna. Still, what different worlds he and Shiro lived in. It became increasingly apparent every time they spoke, and yet Shiro wouldn’t back down from the impassable sort of language barrier that was doomed to stand between them, “That’s because you aren’t me. We all crave what we don’t have – humans and demons alike. I’d find it fascinating to experience things the way you do. You can _make _new things. We Ba’al are more like grunts enforcing existing laws, and, at least in my case, sniffing out intriguing loopholes. There’s always something to learn. I guess we have that in common, at a minimum.”

“I guess? That sounds really boring, almost like being a lawyer or a judge or something,” Shiro sighed with a heave of his chest, “If you weren’t so horrible I’d almost feel sorry for you,”

“Finally feeling an ounce of pity for us demons?” 

“Maybe a little. Not for you, though.” 

“I figured.” Mephisto hissed derisively, half to himself. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared so much about this man’s attention anyway, at least, he wasn’t sure why he seemed to desire it more than he desired attention and adoration in general. 

Shiro shot up, an unexpected flare of rage cutting through the haze of alcohol, “What? You expect me to feel otherwise when you’re literally the root of my problems? You think I’m too stupid to know you’re the reason I exist? I don’t care what interest any of you have in Assiah! The things you bastards have done are unforgivable.” 

Unforgivable, hmm? Mephisto held back a cackle at the meaningless term every human liked to throw around for whatever thing was currently upsetting them. It was nearly as hollow as “love” in his mind. Best to get Shiro off his current topic before he ended the night too soon because of hurt _feelings_.

He straightened up, nudging Shiro to switch subjects, “We’ve brought this up time and again. Anyway, that actually brings me to something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. You’re looking for a new service task for seminary, aren’t you?” 

The abrupt topic shift had Shiro pulling back, blinking as he tried to jump track, “Yeah. I’ve been mostly helping at the hospital, but there’s something I’d been thinking of.” 

“There’s something only you can do.” Mephisto leered at him knowingly through long lashes, taking another sip of his whisky, “Let’s discuss.” 

Shiro’s stomach dropped at those words, so soon in following the previous spat they’d narrowly avoided.

‘Let’s discuss.’ was never a great thing for Mephisto to say, especially a few drinks into the night. It was always the cue that important was coming up that would inevitably leave Shiro thinking himself halfway to insanity for the next few nights. Shiro knew well what Mephisto was alluding to and it flooded him with grim apprehension.

He wanted to demand how the damned demon had figured at it, but dropped the idea. It was too tiresome to go through that dead-end conversation. Mephisto waited. Shiro tightened his lips, adjusting how he was sitting. Nothing felt comfortable. A snap of the fingers had a glass of water hovering next to him, and Shiro took it with some gratitude. Finally, Shiro spoke.

“I have to go back there.” 

Mephisto, again, waited, listening with that inquisitive and reptilian intent that made Shiro feel like he was under a microscope. 

Shiro hunched over, resting his elbows on his thighs. He wrung his hands, licking his lips nervously. Just the mere thought of it made sweat bead on his brow and his heart feel like it was racing, freezing, shattering, “They’re still down there, aren’t they?” 

A curt nod answered him. 

“They’re still….” 

“They are.” Mephisto remained matter of fact.

“Fuck.” Shiro rubbed his hands into his short hair, knotting his fingers into clumps of it. Memories that never really faded flooded back. The feeling of the cuffs of his shirt against his wrists was rapidly growing unbearable. 

A burning sensation wound around his neck and he pulled mindlessly at a nonexistent collar, “_Fuck!_” 

He got to his feet, head rushing, chest tight, pacing around like an animal in a cage far too small. Slit pupils tracked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth through the room, unfazed and indifferent. 

“Breathe, Shiro.” 

Shiro rounded on him, tears burning at his eyes, “Don’t fucking tell me to breathe, jackass!” _Ugh!_” he clawed at his hair again until strands tore and he forced himself to stop, “I don’t…I don’t… _why _would you even agree with a suggestion like _that?_ I thought I was done! You said so!” He almost screamed the words to the apathetic creature that watched him break down without a hint that it made any kind of difference, that it mattered, that he felt anything at all.

“I never even suggested it, you came to this yourself and it was clear as day to me that you’d consider it. An interesting facet of time is that we often find ourselves returning to familiar scenes. Anyway, I won’t argue because it spites my brother, and _could_ be a character-building exercise for you. Other than that, I don’t care at all what you do, you decide how to go about your holy duties,” Mephisto responded bluntly, raising his glass to his lips again with a haughty chuff and closing his eyes to savor the drink. 

The crash of shattering glass made his eyes snap open again. Shiro stood in the middle of the room, shoulders heaving with strained breaths. The glass of water lay broken into countless pieces on the floor.

Not that the mess meant anything to Mephisto, Shiro knew in the back of his mind. With a snap of those clawed fingers everything would be pristine again, as if Shiro’s outburst had never happened.

“You.” Shiro leveled a dangerous look into those green eyes, “You…” he faltered. Who was he kidding? He could be cleaned up and vanished just as easily as a broken glass and it would probably mean about as much to Mephisto, “Whatever. You’re right.” 

His shoulders slackened, shrinking in on himself, breath catching and uneven as his rage faded as quickly as it had come. He turned back to the couch and fell into it with a distressed huff, rubbing at his wrists with wide, frightened eyes, “I have to go back. When’s the next lab day for the clones?” 

“Next Tuesday. I’ll give you clearance.” Mephisto stated, all the teasing emotion that had filled his eyes gone to leave him business as usual, “Beyond that, you do what you will. I want no further part of this.” 

And that was that. Shiro left, feeling bitter and angry without an outlet and with no one to blame but himself and the demon he’d left in the room behind him. Terrifying as it was, a call to duty was stronger than the fear, or so he hoped.


	6. Milkvetch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro returns to Section 13 as part of his service duties in Seminary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for needles, human experimentation, and touching on some ptsd-related stuff just as a head's up.
> 
> Milkvetch means "your presence softens my pain"
> 
> Seishiro is a good boy, I hope he gets a little more spotlight in the manga at some point. I've got a strong headcanon he was in seminary with Shiro at least through part of it.

Shiro’s alarm served no purpose this morning. He’d been drifting on the edge of fitful sleep in pitiful cycles. Reluctantly, he sat up, staring at his feet and contemplating the way the cool floor felt against them. Not terribly unlike the floors in the labs – the temperature, that was. 

Considerations of drowning his worries in a textbook faded, he knew it would be less than effective and likely more stressful to consider anything related to demons or medical practices. He’d agonized the past few days over what, exactly, to do in the first place – what could he possibly offer to the other clones, or anyone, for that matter? 

He relegated himself to winging it to prevent another onslaught of panic. 

The rest of the morning felt like he’d been placed on autopilot, going listlessly through the motions. He didn’t recall the taste of breakfast. He didn’t recall much other than staring at dust so intently it burned during Mass, ominous quips of a homily slipping into the cracks of his attention and offering little in the way of comfort. 

“You’re heading out early, huh?” Seishiro’s voice sounded at the edge of his awareness. Shiro paused from pulling his jacket on, turning to him. 

“Y-yeah… It’s for service.” 

That got him a curious tilt of the head from Seishiro, “I thought you were at the hospital with me this week as usual?” 

Shiro sighed, saying, “No, not today at least. There’s something else I need to do. Sir Pheles put a word in for it, it’s partly for work too, I guess. Don’t worry, I got the go-ahead to be out today. I’ll miss supper but I’ll be back this evening, so in case nobody let the others know, don’t wait up for me,” 

Seishiro offered a noncommittal shrug, “Alright, then. I hope it goes well… don’t get into too much trouble, ‘kay? God bless you.” 

“Mmh… have a good day, Seishiro.” With that, Shiro quickly slipped through the door, casting a look back. Seishiro offered a curt wave from the window before disappearing down the hall. He drew down a sharp breath, hoping for a bit of comfort in the fresh air. None came. Double checking he had the correct key, he began walking.

\---

Section 13 was even drearier than he remembered. He thumbed at the key Mephisto had given him, feeling a coil of nausea at the way it felt in his hand. The bright lights overhead flickered. 

Two imposing doormen clad in black stopped him. 

“Name?” 

“Fujimoto Shiro, first class exorcist. I’m here on approval from Sir Pheles.” He almost flashed the key to them, but kept his hands folded tightly behind his back. 

“ID?”

Nervous hands rifled for his card and presented it, shifting his weight lightly from foot to foot while one guard analyzed it, then handed it back.

“Go ahead. We got the word from Sir Pheles, too.” They opened the doors, granting him passage. 

He made his way down the hall towards the labs, turning his face away from familiar people who milled by. Again, doormen stopped him, the same old song and dance. 

“Shiro? Heh, back for testing?” one of the doormen chortled, “I thought you fought tooth and nail to get away from here,” 

“Can it. I’m here on business.” His lip curled into a dismissive growl as he shoved irreverently by. 

“…Fujimoto? Fujimoto Shiro, is that you?” 

His veins turned to ice as he met the deep brown eyes of Misumi. 

Misumi blinked at him, “It’s nice to see you. Sir Pheles said you were coming… have you been feeling well? We can-“ 

“Absolutely the fuck not.” 

“…What business are you here on, then?” Misumi tilted his head curiously, turning to beckon a young boy over. 

“It’s not your concern. Just let me work.” He felt his lungs constrict as he let the sight before him sink in – children of various ages all in the same stupid white tunics. In those stupid, vile collars. All numbers. Not people. Some were being ushered up onto tables and strapped down. Some stared blankly, the last bits of feeling having been long crushed under the weight of trauma. Others had eyes wide, staring fearfully. Others screwed their eyes shut, seemingly trying to will away whatever was to come. 

Taking a deep, shaking breath, Shiro made his way over to the boy Misumi had called over, undeniably another Az group clone. He couldn’t have been much older than nine or ten at best, and reminded Shiro painfully of Goro before the last splinters of his sanity had been obliterated. Without thinking, Shiro knelt beside him, clasping the boy’s hand tightly. The boy turned to him, first in fear, then in curiosity as he scrutinized Shiro’s face carefully. 

“You’re one of us, aren’t you?” the boy whispered. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Shiro said, feeling his breath hitch again. 

A perplexed look crossed his face, “What are you doing here?” 

Shiro shook his head slowly, “I don’t know. But it’ll… it’ll be okay, alright? Just hold on. Dr. Misumi is coming. He’s not as rough as the others, but you know that, right?” 

The boy nodded, swallowing hard, “I still don’t want to be here.” 

“Neither did I. Do you know what they’re doing this week?” 

Misumi had appeared again and cut into the conversation as he pulled on nitrile gloves, “We’re doing elixir shots again this week, orders from Sir Pheles and Shemihaza, apparently. I tried telling them this version’s not super different yet, so it probably won’t do much but…” 

Meanwhile, the Azazel clone grimaced, “The last one made me really sick and that’s it. It felt like my head was going to explode. I still don’t feel right,” 

Misumi gave him a regretful look, but said nothing to him, instead speaking to Shiro, “Alright, Fujimoto. I won’t stop you, but don’t interfere, please.” 

Shiro squeezed his hand tighter now, “Hold still. It’ll be okay. Just breathe, it hurts less if you relax your muscles.” The boy nodded rigidly to him, exhaling a shuddering breath and trying to pay less attention to Misumi puttering around nearby. 

A spike of rage had him hiding gritting teeth as he took note of the boy’s collar – 102. One hundred and two Azazel clones now. One hundred and two lives manufactured and treated expendable, and that didn’t count the other cohorts. 

He tried to keep his hands from shaking, but before he realized it the question had slipped from his lips, “…so, what is your name?” 

“H-Hyakuyoro,” he winced while Misumi looked him over, “but I’d rather be called Kaito,”

Shiro offered a strained smile, “Yeah. That’s a better name than I wanted back then, I like it.” As he spoke, he watched Misumi carefully, heart dropping just seeing the size of the syringe they were using. His own arm ached.

Misumi swiped alcohol over the injection site, “Alright, there’ll be a prick.”

Kaito grimaced and let out a pained whine. Shiro felt his vision go hazy.

Was he watching himself?

Misumi had backed away, waiting.

Two hearts threatened to shatter the ribs that trapped them.

Someone cried out across the room, but it sounded so far away.

The stinging scent of disinfectants and blood mixed, washing up the memories. Old nightmares.

“Hold on. We’re testing regeneration effects from this one, we have orders to see if more trauma can be healed quickly and if it dulls pain responses at all. Sit tight for a few minutes, okay?”

Misumi sounded too close.

He could feel the way it seeped under his skin like crude oil. Viscous, a creeping poison in his body that soured at the back of his throat until he thought it might spill from his mouth.

Was his heart in his ears? It may as well have been. The rushing blood sounded staticky, as if it came from a run-down old radio. The little hand in his looked so pale and felt so warm and cold all at once.

_ Even the yukiotoko is warm! _

Sweet words to hear from a sweet voice, it sounded like such a distant memory, but the growling of the hounds was a fresh wound. That dread of being dragged back down. Over and over and over – always back here, always this scene. Always this smell. The same voices. The same shit. Over and over and over.

“Mister-“

His attention snapped back, “Y-yeah?”

“I think it’s going to be worse this time.”

Shiro blanched, but noticed the bandages around Kaito’s left leg. He wanted to ask what they’d done, but couldn’t. Faltering, he could find no words to speak, but pressed that little, clammy hand to his forehead.

Kaito could have sworn he had whispered, “_I’m sorry._”

“Fujimoto, I’m going to need his hand…” Misumi sighed glumly.

“No.”

“Unfortunately, the protocol that was written up asks us to-“

Shiro steeled his gaze, staring Misumi down like an enraged animal, “I said _no._”

Misumi sighed again, “Look, I already pushed for this test to be less extreme. We’ll be removing and reattaching a finger on half the group – he’s one of them. That’s all, and that’s all I can really say on the matter.”

“I’m not moving.”

Misumi looked entirely exhausted, and that didn’t escape him. Resignation in his voice, he jotted a note down, “Alright. I’ll mention we used the left hand instead of the right for him. But I’m holding you accountable if any of this comes back on me.”

Shiro didn’t respond, almost forgetting how tightly he was gripping Kaito’s hand. He loosened his grip, looking away in embarrassment at his own actions.

“Ready?”

Kaito swallowed hard, but nodded to Misumi.

He was a sweet, but stubborn boy, it seemed. _Just like Goro._

He wondered where he was, half hoping he had passed away if only just to be away from this place forever. 

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Shiro’s phone rang. He reluctantly wandered over to answer it.

“Shiro!”

_ Oh, great. _

“What?”

He could hear the feigned insult in Mephisto’s voice, “Your tone is sharp as ever. How did it go last week? You skipped our meeting and I heard you got lunch with Rick instead. How rude! I thought you were learning some manners.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and almost wished Mephisto could see, “It sucked.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect a bitter place to offer a good experience. Anyway, is there a chance you could get out for the evening to visit for a drink? I’m itching to talk to you again.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Shiro ignored the question, “But give me clearance to go back the next couple lab days.”

Mephisto huffed into the phone, “So prickly. Alright, I’ll do it, but only for the next two. I don’t need you running yourself to the bones. Anyway, when can I be expecting you next? Your chair looks so empty without you.”

“I don’t know. Just drop it.”

\---

The weeks slunk by sluggishly, as if every moment was something to be painstakingly trudged through. Sleep came with difficulty, if it came at all, and when it did it was rife with troubling dreams. Old faces, old voices, old wounds freshly ripped open. The best he could do was drown it in work it seemed, making dogged attempts to stay productive.

“Shiro?”

Shiro looked up to find Seishiro in the doorway.

“Have you been feeling alright?”

He pulled a face but offered little more than a noncommittal grunt.

Seishiro paused, seeming to weigh his options for his next move, “Alright, well, can I come in?”

Shiro nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”

Seishiro seemed to hover nearby somewhat aimlessly. Shiro was rapidly regretting allowing him in, his presence becoming heavier and more suffocating by the second. Couldn’t he just leave him alone? What did he even want? Some shit to gossip about?

No. Seishiro wasn’t the gossiping type. He had to give him that much.

“So why did you want to come in?”

Seishiro scratched his head, fingers disappearing into his thick hair as he drew them through the strands, “You’ve been acting more off than usual, and that’s… that’s saying something, you know? Ah, haha, no offense, of course. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Ever since you took on that new service task, something seems to be eating at you, you know?”

Shiro froze. This bastard had better not prod further. “Yeah it’s just, you know, a lot of work. I’d rather not talk much about it, honestly.”

“It might be good to-“

“It’s kind of really private, alright?”

Seishiro gave him a concerned look, but shrugged when he didn’t budge, “Very well. Just be careful not to run from things, it only leads to more problems. Anyway, I was going to do some baking today. I’ll bring something to you, my treat.”

“I don’t need anything, don’t worry about it.” Shiro grumbled, “I hate feeling like a charity case just because I’m a little out of it for a couple weeks.”

Seishiro looked like he was biting back a retort. He knew it was useless to argue with Shiro by now. “Too late, I’m baking a lot.”

“Ughhh, fine!”

“That’s the spirit!” with a wink, Seishiro slipped out as silently as he’d come. 


	7. Sweetbrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks have dragged by since Shiro's few returns to Section 13, and the mounting questions and resurfacing bitterness feel like a ten ton weight.   
Even if whatever inkling of trust or goodwill Shiro had slowly built towards Mephisto has been swiftly crushed again, there are questions and conversations he can't run from. 
> 
> Another glass of whisky and a difficult chat are in order to set a few things straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweetbrier/eglantine means "I wound to heal"

“Mephisto?”

Mephisto smiled darkly as Shiro’s voice came through the phone, “Oh, Shiro? To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I lied and said I have a meeting once classes finish up today. Can I stop over?”

“Should I have your favorite glass ready?”

He heard Shiro swear under his breath away from the receiver, “That would be great. But I can’t have much, I do have to head back early tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

\---

“It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.” Mephisto smiled gently past his drink, eyes narrowed as if waiting to see how his remark would affect Shiro. 

Shiro chewed at his lip, shifting his weight. He’d sat on the couch this time, likely in some small act of rebelling against habit, “Yeah. I didn’t want to see you.”

“Do you ever?”

Shiro rolled his eyes. _Can you not fucking do this? _“Once in awhile. Good enough for you?”

“I’ll accept it. What was driving you off?”

“You know.”

“I do, I just like hearing things in your words sometimes.” He took a sip of his drink, letting himself relax. Shiro eyed him watchfully. He looked like a leopard in a sunbeam, regal, beguiling, and dangerous. Always dangerous. He couldn’t forget that.

The taste of the whisky was a welcome relief today. What did Mephisto want him to even say? Wasn’t it obvious enough? But the demand in his voice pulled an answer from him, “It’s troublesome enough being around you, but after seeing that shit again I think I went right back to fantasizing about spitting on your grave.”

“Tragic, because that’s pretty impossible. You’ve got a fun imagination, though.” he became severe, “I never made you go back there, you felt called to that on your own and I simply allowed it even though it got me some strange looks. What did you learn?”

“That I wish I could burn that place to the ground. It’s not like any sad excuse of temporary comfort I gave meant _shit_ in the long run.”

Mephisto rested his cheek on his hand, “Mmm, well, you’re right and wrong, as usual. You’re such a perceptive man sometimes. How many times must I say it? Don’t discredit your actions.”

Shiro noticed his mouth had been hanging open while he listened. He took a nervous drink, glass clicking to his teeth when he brought it up harder than he’d intended. That bastard seemed too knowing, too keen, like he saw all of him and right past him all at once.

But, of course he did. Of course.

That was the nature of space and time.

“Can you cut the cryptic nonsense. What do you mean?”

“Time always tells, but not right away,” he chuckled darkly into his drink, “I just mean that, as much as most moments are near meaningless in-betweens, every movement affects what follows. The possibilities are like an ever shifting deck of cards, and you, like everyone, make an impact…at least on this small scale.”

Shiro mulled this over for a moment, “Right, okay. But-“

“I have little else to say on the matter. What else have you learned?”

“You know? For the longest time, I figured that shit was normal. Now I think I was pretty wrong and I’m even angrier. I was angry for myself, now I’m angry for everyone.”

“How sweet. That’s oddly sentimental of you, Shiro.”

Shiro wanted nothing more than to snap right this moment, “Then why can’t you just end all this? If you know so much and are so strong, why are you just standing idly by, hell, why are you _contributing_?!”

“We all open our mouths a little too fast in the heat of the moment.” Mephisto murmured, clearly not willing to elaborate, “You know of my brother, do you not?”

Shiro leaned forward, “Huh? Yeah, Lucifer. He’s part of this shit too.”

“Right you are.”

“Okay, so, what about it? I already knew that he was involved.”

Mephisto’s face softened for a fleeting moment, almost in gentle admiration, “Your sneaking around got you some great tidbits of information. Clever boy. But if you’d care to hear a tale-“

“I would.”

“I thought so,” a laugh rumbled gently in his chest but did not escape his lips, “I’ll need to swear you to secrecy on this, too.”

“That’s not new, so whatever.” Shiro grunted, setting his drink on the table with a light _clack_, “Tell me everything.”

Mephisto waved his finger, “Ah-ah, I’ll tell you what you’re ready for. I created Section 13 for him- Sit down!”

Shiro, who had risen, tensed and furious, was pulled mercilessly back down onto the couch, huffing in impatience.

“Your listening skills have improved but leave much to be desired. My brother, the king of light, stands above me. You know this, I’m sure. He’s much stronger than I am or could dream to be, and in some ways I rely on him. It’s a bit of a house of cards among us, the Ba’al and Sool that is.” 

Shiro waited, expectant for more. Mephisto continued. 

“Anyway,” he took another sip, seeming lost in thought for a moment, “Finding a body is no easy task. Keeping it is perhaps more troublesome. I’m spoiled by my concept, but the others have no such luxury,”

“So can you-“

Mephisto snapped Shiro’s mouth shut for him with a flick of his wrist, “Listen. It’s a privilege and act of trust I share this with you. I see the way you nervously pat at your pockets to be sure you haven’t forgotten your cigarettes. Could you go on without? Yes, of course. Is it difficult? I thought so. Now, magnify that drive beyond your own comprehension – that is why we claw our way to Assiah and hold on so tightly. Lucifer is stronger than me, but his body degrades quickly, overwhelmed by him. It’s a truly pitiful and painful existence, and his fuse is shorter than yours, if you can believe that.”

Shiro cut in, “I already figured a lot of-“

“Zip it. I’m talking. Sheesh, I listen when you tell me your problems. Now, that temper is, proportionally, far more dangerous than yours, my little worm. You do the math. What is, on the grand scale of things, a few mortal lives to keep him sated for now versus mass destruction?”

“I’d almost call mass destruction a mercy killing.”

“Would you now?”

Shiro considered this, not taking his eyes off of Mephisto as he brought his drink to his lips again. 

“I am playing a dangerous game for the interests of Assiah. We all need to make sacrifices, plenty of them. He’s far more cunning than you understand or could understand, and the politics and alliances keeping things from falling apart are delicate. I’ll leave you to think on that.” At that, he downed his drink, seeming increasingly distant as he immediately refilled it. The silence that settled in and permeated the room was heavier than usual.

Shiro set his drink aside, still having hardly touched it, “I really need to head back soon, before they ask questions. It’s really easier doing this when I’m on breaks.”

Mephisto didn’t move, but his eyes flicked up to lock on Shiro, “Come over here first.”

Shiro got to his feet, rolling his shoulders, “I come in with a bone to pick and leave with a contract. Figures.”

That familiar smirk crept over Mephisto’s ashen face, leaving him to look much more himself, “You walked yourself into it. I’ve just been generous. Alright, let me see your neck.”


	8. Ranunculus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's finally getting ordained. Meanwhile, whatever nonsense is going on between him and Mephisto is only growing more baffling and troublesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ranunculus is a widespread genus of flowers, some also known as Coyote's Eyes. Their message is "I am dazzled by your charms".  
Additionally, all species of Ranunculus are poisonous, at least when fresh.

_1988_

The warm light drifting through the stained glass set the ends of Shiro’s hair to silver and gold as he came forward, expression blank. The words and motions of the others before him were a blur, his chest tightening and body feeling all too light and all too heavy at once. _There is no turning back from this._ The weight of it pulled him down. The resounding “Amen,” felt like snapping from a fall in the line between wakefulness and sleep. 

“…and these fine men, too, have sought to save what has been lost…” 

A dream. It felt too much like a dream, almost like a weightier repeat of his induction as an exorcist. Shiro waited to wake. In the shadows of the farthest pews, a serpentine tongue slicked over lips that pulled into a curious and mocking smile. An otherworldly gaze zeroed in intently as the man dropped to his knees like a stone, head down, murmuring solemnly his undying obedience. _A farce._ Incense burning in his nose, Shiro lowered himself to the ground, breath shallow, pretending he didn’t feel the eyes upon him. The voices joining in the Litany sounded far away. Those mocking lips mouthed along, eyes drawn to slits. Oh, of course, the beast prayed for him, too. He’d need it. 

The sound faded and gave way to deafening silence filled only by the urgent rush of blood in Shiro’s ears. He nearly flinched away from the hands upon him and did not meet the bishop’s eyes, staring blankly beyond him. Still, he could not shake the unbearable and piercing feeling of being watched. Somewhere, green eyes flickered in amusement. _Spotless victim indeed. _Shiro finally met the bishop’s eyes as thick, calloused fingers traced over his quivering hands and anointed them with oil. _Set apart, indeed._ It was a poetic ordeal, at least in a demon’s humble opinion. Shiro turned to face the congregation, brow furrowed as he tried to calm himself. That glinting green reptilian gaze caught him. His heart skipped and stuttered, breath catching as if on a snare. 

Mephisto flashed a broad, sharp-fanged grin. Shiro had to pull fiercely to move his attention back to the ceremony, ears hot with a rush of blood.

\---

“Congratulations, Father Fujimoto,” Mephisto purred as Shiro stepped past. Shiro shouldered him aside as he kept talking, “Meet me this evening.” 

Shiro paused at the demand, “I’m afraid I won’t have time,” 

“Then allow me this,” 

Shiro turned, rolling his eyes, “What?” he felt his breath hitch again, locking with Mephisto’s gaze. He stepped forward, kissing Shiro chastely. 

“Let’s move forward with greater camaraderie. And be expecting correspondence from me regarding your next assignments. Once again, congratulations,” with a wink, he tapped his umbrella to the floor and disappeared. Shiro stared forward, softly running his thumb over his lips where they burned. He ignored the flush that colored his face, turning swiftly to hurry outside and meet with the other ordinands. 

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The buzz of milling students faded behind Shiro as he sauntered into his office, rubbing at his forehead. Was he that annoying as an exwire? Some ibuprofen and quiet before his next class would be in order. 

“Oh, good afternoon!” 

“Mephisto?!” 

The lanky demon leaned forward playfully in Shiro’s chair, “Amazing, you have eyes!” 

Shiro blinked, trying to push away the urge to defenestrate the intruder, “Yeah, okay, whatever. What are you doing here?” 

“Mmmm,” Mephisto ignored the question, swiveling back and forth in the chair, thumbing through a particularly unchoice magazine produced from a dusty corner of one of Shiro’s filing cabinets, “You’ve got excellent taste still, my dear holy man~” 

“Give me that!” Shiro swiped for the magazine, only for Mephisto to whisk the offending publication out of sight – whether back to its place in the cabinet or elsewhere entirely was unknown, “Ugh! I have work to do, stop messing around and quit touching my stuff!” 

Mephisto straightened up, fixing his tie, “Right! Are you settled in yet at Southern Cross?” 

Shiro grunted, “Yeah, I suppose. But…why did _he _stop by? You sent him just to piss me off, didn’t you?” 

“Only partly.” The demon’s mischievous grin fell to a more grave expression, “But that’s a conversation for another time. Perhaps Misumi seeks reconciliation? He’s considering becoming a monk like Naoya, even. Remember that time has passed and things are changing, I’d encourage you to look beyond the cage of your memories – it will be integral to your success,” 

Shiro furrowed his brow, arms akimbo, “You’re being vague again. Spit it out.” 

Mephisto hesitated. _No, now wasn’t the right time to delve into it. _“I’m not going to let you risk my reputation again. They were hesitant to ordain you given your past behavioral issues, you still owe me a favor for that. Maybe this is your first test of how well you’ve learned mercy to poor sinners, fufufu~” 

“Quit dodging, you’re pissing me off. What’s this really about?” 

The demon shrugged, throwing his arms up in feigned confusion, “Your fault for reading into it, maybe I just wanted to make sure you were getting on alright. Good luck on your next class.” He rose, stepping past Shiro and out the door, casting a teasing look over his shoulder. Shiro blinked, watching him go. Observing Mephisto never failed to amuse him; however, he seemed more uncanny the more he watched him, and the less real he appeared. Still, it was increasingly difficult to look away from him. In a flash quick enough to miss, that lanky figure was replaced by a small dog that disappeared around the corner as another gaggle of students made their way down the corridor, giggling amongst themselves. Shiro chuffed to himself, finally settling in at his desk to catch up on grading. What a thorn in his side that haughty king was, but for every spike of apprehension he left the priest with, the more he craved. Maybe it was a foolhardy chase of adrenaline, maybe simple hubris, and maybe something else. He felt his face grow warm, realizing he’d been musing about the way Mephisto spoke and the way he looked at him again.

“Fah!” he swiped at something nonexistent, pulling out a folder of exams and refocusing himself, “Stupid demon.”


	9. Tuberose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The years have continued to fly by and tensions thrum, made only worse by Satan's recent possession of Goro. Shiro is desperately hoping Mephisto knows what he's doing, and between new concerns and conflicting emotions that have snowballed for far too long, he's got another set of bones to pick. Meanwhile, Mephisto is growing impatient and figures there's a quicker way to answer Shiro's current questions and leave him with a fresh set of things to ponder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here comes the smut.   
Head's up for some dubcon, blood, and maybe sorta hypnosis? 
> 
> This was the initial oneshot that spurred this whole beast, too. Yay yay? Things get a little better for Shiro in time, I swear. He's finding his footing in dealing with Bastard Supreme. 
> 
> Tuberose can mean "Dangerous pleasure". They also have been associated with funerals, and have long been used in perfumery but can have a very overpowering scent.

_ 1991 _

It had been a whirlwind, and even that seemed a massive understatement. Shiro shuddered – those were not Goro’s eyes. The last time he’d seen him, it had been heartbreaking, but this time had been downright unsettling. It hit him, then. Of course, of course Mephisto had encouraged him to go back to Section 13 in seminary. Every stupid thing was a test of his mettle, whether it came back to bite him twice as hard in minutes or years. Worse, yet, was that he’d allowed, no,  _ requested _ Yuri to join the observation team. The walk home felt longer than ever today, Shiro dragged down by exhaustion and spurred on by sheer bitterness. What did he expect to happen? It was one thing to be thrown into the fray himself, but the sheer madness of letting Yuri get roped in with something like  _ that _ twisted a nervous knot in his gut.

Heaving a sigh, he ground a spent cigarette into the pavement as he reached the door of the monastery. The haughty, knowing smirk Mephisto wore earlier today flashed through his mind and a wash of emotion came over him. Somewhere between shame, curiosity, and fury he suffocated. Every time he fell for it, every time he was hooked on that demon’s charm, something else came back like a slap to the face. And, cyclically, whatever caused the unrest was resolved once its purpose showed. Rinse, repeat, over and over and over, and all this weight still lifted in nights that felt soft and the burn of whisky that let the conversation flow and hold them both captive. That stupid, godawful lilting voice was ever-present, mocking him, dragging him in and leading him on tragic crumbs of information leaving curiosity behind as a burning addiction. He pushed it away. Tonight was not a time for questions and answers. Tonight was no time for jokes. Any feelings otherwise be damned, tonight was not a time to think of him softly for even a second, no matter how eloquent and beguiling he was.

He pulled the door open, dreading the small talk that was to come.

He desperately hoped Mephisto had a plan. He knew what he was doing, that was a given, but whether that was a comforting or terrifying thought was another matter entirely.

Seishiro turned to the door as Shiro stepped in, “Evening, Shiro. How was work?”

“A mess.” He grumbled. Seishiro blinked at him, but understood now was not the time to prod.

“I see. Go settle down for now, we’ll just call you out when dinner’s ready.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have to go back out soon.”

Shiro shut the door of his room behind him, burying his head in his hands with a soundless snarl.  _ Fuckin’ A, Mephisto, what am I going to do about you? _

_ Why me? _

_ Why her? _

_ And why you? _

There were scores to be settled, and grave mistakes to be made.

\---

“You fucking bastard!” Shiro lunged, casting reason aside in favor of wrath. An effortless motion saw him stopped short, one hand catching his wrist and another securing his forearm. 

“Trying to choke me out, and in my own home at that? How rude, even for you,” Mephisto’s tone was dismissive, if not even slightly playful. Shiro stilled against him, still bristling and straining fecklessly against the demon king. With a spiteful but defeated noise that fell somewhere between a grunt and a snarl, Shiro steeled his gaze, trying to pierce his way through Mephisto’s ever-calm, ever-smug eyes, searching for  _ something _ . He tried once more to wrench himself away, but was held fast, huffing in irritation at the smirk that flitted across Mephisto’s lips. 

“I swore I’d kill you before, and I still intend to keep that promise,” 

_ Still so determined… how precious.  _ “Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about it a million times now. And here I thought perhaps we’d moved on,” Mephisto feigned disappointment, continuing to hold Shiro’s eyes thoughtfully. Shiro felt much like a key had smoothly found its way into a lock, transfixed despite the anger still burning within him. His body slackened and breath slowed slightly. Mephisto narrowed his eyes, something of a threatening blaze flashing over the deep green. Light glinted over sharp teeth as he spoke, voice low, smooth, stern, “-however, this is most unbecoming. Pulling stunts like this is one thing as a rambunctious child, but as a man and an exorcist now, speaking to your superior? You really ought to have more respect and tact,” a hint of an inhuman tongue slipped over a daggerlike canine. 

Shiro grew aware of the claws that had begun to dig into his arms. Longer than usual, they had a fearsome curve to them and glinted a deep purple-black, half reminiscent of some alien midnight sky. Between that and the predatory look coloring the director’s face, it was clear he was not playing at any games today – at least, probably not at the moment. Warmth pooled where the demon’s claws pricked him through his coat, and the shift in Mephisto’s expression did not evade his notice. A pit dropped in Shiro’s stomach, making him feel as if he were suffocating in grim awareness of his own mortality and just how slim a chance he stood against a creature of this caliber. He swallowed hard, but could not force words to his lips or wrench his gaze away. The typically rugged and self-assured man found himself in the position of hapless prey before a greatly displeased serpent, faces held mere centimeters apart. Quivering breath ruffled the errant strands of hair that fell across Mephisto’s face. Both parties found themselves tensing at the other’s scent. 

Shiro exhaled roughly, trying to reject the venomous sweetness carried on Mephisto’s breath. Intoxicating, lulling, and undoubtedly deadly, it made his veins run cold. Meanwhile, Mephisto found himself studying Shiro pensively, tensing like a hunting cat poised to launch itself at the metallic tang of blood. The scent vastly overpowered the lingering mix of cologne and tobacco that clung to Shiro, holding his attention. It brought him pause, but he quieted his mind, snickering softly as he slackened his grip on the priest and snaked one hand up to lace their fingers briefly in an overtly mocking gesture. 

“You’ve broken quite a few rules, today. Frankly, I’m surprised… I thought you were a prodigy. Wasn’t never looking a demon in the eye too long, especially when emotions run high, one of the first lessons you learned? All too many of us can exploit that. You even looked  _ him  _ in the eye a bit too long, have you any idea how dangerous that could have been?” 

A slap to the ego. Shiro turned away sheepishly, a snarl and angry grumbling quivering at the back of his throat. 

“And,” Mephisto moved his hand again, tilting Shiro’s stubble-rough chin up with all the softness of a concerned lover, bidding him to meet his eyes again. Shiro weakly resisted, but relented at his gentle urging, catching his breath when they locked.  _ What even was this, some kind of sick test? _ “To not let your emotions rule you in the first place. You must acknowledge and accept them, and through that, rule  _ them _ . Getting shaken so easily is a quick route to being taken advantage of by demons, isn’t it, Shiro dear? Oh…and-“

“Hmph,” 

“Don’t think I’m not aware of those solo missions you’ve run off on recently, alright?” Mephisto released him, taking a step back and leaning nonchalantly against his desk, “And let’s save some time. I know why you’re here. Don’t worry about Egin, I wouldn’t have asked either of you for your help if I didn’t find you both exceptionally capable of handling the current situation. I can’t say I understand, but it is terribly charming to see you flustered like this. It would still do you well to have a little more faith and candor with yourself and those around you,” 

Shiro straightened himself, arms akimbo, attempting to look just past the demon. His eyes kept flicking back, away, back, away, a strange warmth pooling in his core.  _ Oh. _

Shiro fiddled nervously with the rosary that hung from his belt, “Nothing escapes you, does it, jackass?” 

“That’s sir Pheles to you right now,”

“Yeah, yeah,” 

“I’ve told you… how many times now? That you need to learn respect if you’re going to be a Paladin worth his salt. You need to stay on top of the most basic of your studies, too. Just because you’ve earned your meister and then some doesn’t mean you get to start being sloppy, especially while working on the observation team.” 

“Don’t condescend me.”

“I’m only telling the truth.” 

“Well, that’s a fuckin’ first.” Shiro snorted dismissively.

“Hardly.” Mephisto retorted.

Shiro found himself sizing the demon up, noticing him doing the same. He was unsure of how to feel about this – disgust? Excitement? Was he preparing for some inevitable fight, or- Regardless, it was undeniable that he cut a striking and deceptively alluring figure, a confident, beguiling smirk still plastered on his face, body relaxed against the desk. He was the picture of a monarch who knew his place and power and was all too comfortable in it. How wonderful it would be to knock him down a few pegs, but, for now, he realized that in this particular moment he had royally fucked up. Shiro sighed heavily, “Alright, alright. I made a mistake, I’m crass and you don’t like that or whatever, and I shouldn’t work alone or let my guard down because it’s dangerous – whaddaya gonna do, cut my pay? Suspend me?” 

That stupid snicker again. Never a good sign, “Oh, no, no, no – you’re still far too handy an asset for such drastic measures. Let’s cut a deal: I only want your honesty,” 

The priest flushed, taken aback, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

The demon shrugged, the gesture still clearly saying  _ How much clearer could I possibly be? Are you slow?  _ “I’m asking you to state how you feel.”

A heavy sigh, “Angry.”

“And?”

Shiro deflated somewhat, “…small…”

“And?”

It dawned on Shiro that their eyes had just locked again.  _ Shit. _ Before he could stop himself, the words fell out, “Nervous…”

“Aaand?” 

Face hot, he chewed at his lip.  _ Oh, no…  _ “Erm…that’s it.” 

Mephisto craned over him, haughty grin plastered aggravatingly on his face. Again, those sharp teeth were revealed with a curl of his lip, his voice dripping something heavy, enchanting, and otherwise indescribable. The scent of Shiro’s blood was still thick in his nose, he licked once over his lips again, absentmindedly scratching off a flake of dried blood that clung to one of his claws, “Disobeying orders again, Shiro? My, my… you really  _ are _ beyond help. The first step to controlling yourself is to acknowledge your own thoughts. Tsk, your body has always been far more honest than that rotten mouth of yours,” 

He had drawn closer, hot breath breezing over Shiro’s face and sending a shiver down his spine. He slackened helplessly as a clawed hand gently brushed over his cheek. Thoughtlessly, he strained upward, lips barely grazing Mephisto’s, who pulled away teasingly, “Ah-ah! There we go. Perhaps we ought to put that rotten mouth of yours to use, and while you’re at it you could show me how a man of faith prays, no?” his ran his fingers through Shiro’s short, unruly hair, knotting them in it and gingerly urging him down. A panic kicked up in Shiro’s chest, but he found himself helplessly transfixed, dropping to his knees with a heavy thud and staring blankly forward.

Well, this was different. 

Mephisto sneered down at him, “What, you don’t know how to undo a belt? First ties, now this. It’s a wonder you can function. Tch, Paladin,” with a sigh, he obliged, movements deft. 

“N-no, I…” Shiro stuttered, clashing thoughts warring in his head.  _ I’m not supposed to want this- Argh, who the fuck am I kidding? I really, really, want this – No, dumbshit, why the hell would you? You’re just proving his point!!  _ He found himself looking back up at Mephisto, unsure of whether he wore blazing defiance or a pathetic, searching gaze…seeking, what, exactly? Guidance?  _ This has got to be a mistake… _

“Do you honestly need directions for everything? Here I thought you preferred taking the lead and going off on your own?” his expression was lazy and pompous, waiting, albeit impatiently. 

“I’ve…never done anything like…this…” 

“But you  _ are _ finally being honest with yourself, aren’t you? The way you look at me has only been getting more obvious,” an agonizingly slow motion had the demon finally revealing himself. As if instinctive, Shiro zeroed in and lunged forward.  _ What a poetic repeat of him charging blindly forward earlier, what a shift!  _ Before he could make contact, Mephisto wrenched him back unceremoniously by the hair, earning a yelp of protest, “Ah-ah! Not so fast. I’m surprised by this shift in your demeanor, but that means you’ll need to wait a bit. Now, stay.” 

Shiro nodded dumbly, Mephisto smoothing the priest’s wild, silver-white locks half-comfortingly before taking his own length in his hand, teasing along the shaft while observing Shiro’s growing frustration with immense self-important delight. Sure, he’d known long enough the thought had crossed Shiro’s mind before – the man was a dog hungry for power and he was a demon king, enchanting by nature, running a carrot-and-stick operation under a thin veneer of chaos and camaraderie. Between that and Shiro’s propensity for unbridled lust, it was hardly a sretech. In spite of that, he had still only assumed it to have been a passing, unserious, noncommittal intrusive thought that had only occasionally flitted through Shiro’s mind, a concept that was little more than an unintended byproduct of roiling emotions and curiosity. Realizing Shiro’s repressed thoughts had been truer was a most delightful turn of events, almost theatrical. Showtime, then. The first rule of showmanship was to entice the crowd, get their attention and hold it, work them up to leave them begging for more – today, his lone audience and the only other participant in this bizarre, off the cuff show was becoming unbearably alluring and the thrill was only compounded by the energy between them and scent of blood.

_ No more. Keep composure. Own him, make him yield to himself.  _

Languid, now, were his movements, mercilessly teasing Shiro, whose eyes looked like those of a starving man.  _ How curious _ . Shiro licked his lips, shivering slightly as he raised a hand forward.  _ How cute. _ He stared slack-jawed at an errant drop of precum like the greediest nabob gazed upon a diamond. 

“Now, Shiro – don’t you think this is your chance to bite me. If you do… well, we don’t need to consider the consequences of another infraction, now, do we?” the demon murmured furtively. Shiro’s eyes flicked up in lukewarm acknowledgement.  _ Huh, true.  _ He had never done this before, but had been on the receiving end dozens of times. How difficult could it be? At the same rate, how different might the tastes of an eccentric demon king be? Did he really want to let the years of intrusive thoughts culminate like this? Steeling his resolve, he opted to put what he did know to use in what felt like a strange exercise in empathy. 

“Come on… go ahead, now.” 

Shiro felt pulled forward as if by some impossible gravity between them, taking half his length first, exploring. A wave of shame was pushed ruthlessly down by unabashed  _ want _ – he’d figured that something vulgar as this might be unpleasant, but  _ fuck – he tasted really good, even smelled really good…how the-  _ his thoughts cut short again. Running his tongue along the underside of the demon’s shaft, he pulled back slowly before greedily pushing forward again, taking him to the hilt much too quickly. With a disconcerted grunt, he reeled back spluttering, strings of thick saliva still connecting the bewildered parties. 

“I felt teeth. Be  _ careful. _ ” Mephisto growled, a low and dangerous tone even Shiro had not heard before. It sent a rush through him, setting his already pounding heart to skipping. His eyes pleadingly roved over the face of the king. Was it over? A snarl pulled over the demon’s lip again, “I didn’t instruct you to stop. Give in until you’ve reconciled with yourself – oh, and go slower. As endearing as it is to see you choke, now is not the time to get overzealous. Contain yourself.” At that, in striking contrast to his tone he gently guided Shiro forward, stilling his hand near the base of his cock to stop the priest should he get ahead of himself again. An awkward, halting pace like that just wouldn’t do, and anything worth doing was worth doing correctly the first time. 

Slowly, Shiro resumed, occasionally glancing back up at Mephisto in an attempt to gauge his response. Sure, he  _ could _ bite, and for a moment the thought tempted him-

“No, Shiro. I saw it in your eyes. You have some nerve, and quite a bit more forgiveness to ask now, don’t you?” 

Shiro shot a glower at him, keeping his pace until the task lulled him again. It was almost like a hazy dream, something akin to drunkenness. Mephisto moved a few fingers out of the way, allowing Shiro to take him deeper. Shiro slowed, gingerly testing a soft press to the back of his throat but pulled back quickly to avoid becoming a coughing mess again. Slowly, he allowed the demon to ease him into it until he felt his whole body slacken, mindlessly savoring every way this unusual moment stirred his senses. Mephisto smiled inwardly. How hedonistic – was this how transfixed he might sit in prayer? It certainly seemed it, if Shiro had ever developed a shred of faith.  _ Worship me, you petulant dog. _

And Shiro did, earnestly in the feverish hunger that overtook him. A hum started up low in his throat, half-chantlike, a slurred hymn from a drunkard –  _ he really must have paid attention in all his exploits, after all.  _ The king found himself breaking composure, tilting his head back with a soft sigh as he allowed himself to grind gently into Shiro’s warm mouth. Truly, not too bad for a novice, but of course he expected nothing less from  _ the  _ Shiro Fujimoto, all-time exorcist prodigy, professional lecher, and champion pain in the neck. Lulled as he was, Shiro had not abandoned sight of this situation as a battle he fully expected to win. The fire in his heart hot and low, he drew him deeper, nostrils flaring with strained breath. Fire or not, he’d slipped like a fly into the trap of a pitcher plant. The sight of this unruly, vengeful holy man in such lewd straits stirred something especially primal in the demon, urging him towards his climax. How best to end this act of the show? For once, he hadn’t thought quite so far ahead, having expected the priest to abandon the task and rear up spitting venom far earlier. Mephisto pondered his options, studying Shiro intently, hungrily – how charming would it be to blur his vision, the line between reality and his tinted perceptions? Or, rather, to slick his hair as if commemorating some unholy baptism? How pleasant to see himself drip from Shiro’s mouth like a tainted prayer, marring his black cassock white –  _ Damnit!  _ Mephisto grit his teeth and hissed, the thrill of his considerations colliding with Shiro snaking his tongue around his length, dragging it over the head before consuming him more ravenously than ever. With a deep shudder and rough, half-growled sigh came his release, knotting his fingers in Shiro’s hair but slackening his grip at resistance from him. Shiro fell back on his haunches with a grunt, a string of thick cum spilling over his lower lip, some dripping from his chin to his cassock. 

_ Oh, my, that truly is a nice image…  _ Mephisto mused, all too pleased with himself as he stared down the panting, red-faced priest.  _ How delightfully corrupt! _ “Good boy.” his voice fell thick as honey to Shiro’s awareness. Shiro drew a ragged breath, blinking a few times before snapping back to bewildered attention. 

“The  _ fuck  _ did you just make me do?!” he hissed, wiping away the cum that stuck stubbornly in his beard and awkwardly licking away and swallowing the last of it that sat in his mouth with a forced grimace. In truth, it tasted surprisingly nice, but now was  _ far  _ from the time to admit that to himself or anyone. Mephisto chuckled, offering an arm to help Shiro stumble to his feet before fixing his pants again. 

“Oh, I didn’t make you do anything. I simply encouraged you to follow and explore your own whims… and perhaps get you to reap a bit of what you sow. Besides, variety is the spice of life, is it not? It’s refreshing to occasionally flip the script,” 

Shiro didn’t respond, staring straight ahead, steely and indignant. 

“And it seems you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. I know  _ I  _ did~” the demon punctuated the last statement with a wink, backing up and hefting himself to sit on his desk. He kicked his legs like a playful child, glinting green eyes expectant and taunting. 

Shiro growled low in his throat, drawing himself up to his full height. To Mephisto, he was a veritable picture of a little white cat trying desperately to appear fearsome. “You snake!” he spat, “That wasn’t fair!” 

“Few things look it, from a  _ human  _ perspective. But, I did say you’d be rewarded for your honesty and I fully intend to keep my word, especially after you giving  _ quite  _ the penance like that.” Mephisto picked absentmindedly at his collar as he spoke, unfazed by Shiro's return to sourness. 

“You’re a conniving bastard is what you are!”

“…And you are not?”

Shiro started, but faltered. His mind raced as he searched for a sharp retort, but nothing came to mind save for blank, impassable confusion and frustration. He found his eyes ranging over the nonchalant king, fury and  _ want  _ entwining beneath his thoughts. Mephisto had burst open a veritable Pandora’s box within Shiro.

Mephisto sighed, sliding to his feet again as if it were the most unbearable trouble to do so. He clasped a clawed hand on Shiro’s shoulder, stooping just enough to bring his mouth to the priest’s ear, “How many lovers did you once leave high and dry, hmm?” his tone was infuriatingly condescending and accusatory, “You reap what you sow, Fujimoto,” 

Shiro stiffened, thoroughly incensed, “Wh-what?! How would you even know- I haven’t- Ugh!” 

Before he could round on Mephisto, the demon stilled him as they were, flicking his long tongue up the side of Shiro’s neck teasingly, pleased with the shiver it caused. His voice dropped to a decidedly unsettling murmur, “No matter. I’m not so rude as you were. I’d like to experience your improvements firsthand, and besides – we had a deal,” with that, he snapped his fingers. The two found themselves in Mephisto’s ornate room. Shiro curled his lip at the innumerable baubles, knickknacks, and collectibles that cluttered the space – the hoard of tacky bullshit had undoubtedly grown even in the last couple months. Secondly, was this show of teleporting such a pitiful distance necessary? Of course it was with this jackass. He understood, though, it was also meant as a grim reminder of the raw power he was up against – a threat? Was he being coerced? Shiro grew doubtful, mulling a million considerations over in his head, almost forgetting his seething indignation for a fleeting moment. 

A whistle brought him back, irefully meeting Mephisto’s green eyes.  _ Damnit, not again-  _ he shifted his gaze, but found it drifting back again to the blazing green, the slit pupils that fixed on him like a beast carefully observing its prey, “Hey, got a lot on your mind?” his tone was playful, mocking. 

“Why are we here?” Shiro demanded, half forcing the question.

A smirk pulled at the corner of the demon’s mouth, a sharp canine slipping into view, “You know exactly why. Don’t play stupid. I know you’re brighter than to think you can lie to me,” 

Shiro grunted, feeling a flush color his face again.  _ Really?  _ Was this seriously happening, or was it some sick dream or badly played joke? Why was he half hoping for this? Anticipation was  _ not  _ the right mood here, “I already gave my end of the bargain, alright? What else do you want? I thought it was my turn?”

That goddamned snicker, never a good sign. “Exactly! Do as you wish, now, that’s all!” 

Shiro hesitated, still warring with himself and pitifully trying to push away the years of snowballed interest that threatened to snap his resolve in two.

“Perhaps you could show me how you treat all those nice ladies you rove around with, hm?” 

Shiro steeled himself, some bizarre mixture of lust, rage, and shame setting to boiling. Oh, he’d show him. He’d knock the bastard down a few pegs if it killed him.  _ Pff, what a new twist to the idea of demon taming _ he mused. The halfhearted snort he let out was cut short by Mephisto stepping forward to loom over him. A challenge. 

“You’d best take your chance now, before I remind you of your place again,” 

Something in the demon’s tone made it feel like a rug was pulled out from under the last bit of sense Shiro had. He closed the distance between them, snaking one arm around Mephisto’s slender waist and snatching him by the goatee with the other to drag him into a rough, hungry kiss. Mephisto allowed himself to be led, finding himself more enchanted than expected. Shiro undoubtedly behaved on instinct, the taste of tobacco was still loosely on his tongue and the scent clung to him, meshing with the still lingering scent of blood and old cologne. Even still, how ungentlemanly Shiro was. Did his manners really break down this swiftly with all the mates he took? He filed it away as something else to teach this petulant dog. Shiro slid his hand up along Mephisto’s face, thick fingers finding their way to card through his long bangs. His hair was almost unbearably soft. Most surprising, though, was how slight Mephisto felt in his arms. For someone so powerful and almost imposingly tall, his lithe form felt almost delicate, masking the monstrous potential that lurked within his host body. Shiro ran his tongue over Mephisto’s lips, a request for access that was crude and unpolished. Mephisto’s interest was now thoroughly piqued – what might he do next? How could he really rile the priest? He returned the gesture, holding back just slightly, letting Shiro get complacent and convince himself he had control over this act of the show. Mephisto giggled softly into the kiss as he felt Shiro’s hand slide down his back.  _ What a lecher – how curious. _ Shiro broke away for a moment, craning upwards to bite along Mephisto’s neck as he moved his hands to undo the demon’s tie and unceremoniously unfasten the buttons of his suit. He wrenched the collar out of the way, kissing down along the crook of his neck and shoulder. Mephisto found himself curling his hands into the fabric of Shiro’s cassock, urging him to continue. It was thrilling to see the results of all Shiro’s practice, and it was surely better than having to teach him more from scratch. As Shiro continued to work steadily at the king’s clothes, Mephisto opted to prod and test his resolve a bit more, shouldering him aside to return the favor, licking and biting gingerly along his jaw and neck. In contrast to the priest, he moved gracefully and was pointedly gentle and teasing. He bit down lightly where Shiro’s neck met his shoulder, feeling him twitch as his teeth broke the skin.  _ Oh, dear…we’re in for it now, aren’t we?  _

He licked away the small drops that pooled to the surface, something fearsome and primal feeling like it was slamming itself against the walls of a cage.  _ Good job, Shiro. _ The metallic taste was a thrill in and of itself, but coupled with the lingering scent of fear, anger, lust, tobacco,  _ submission-  _ Shiro pushed forward again, catching Mephisto in another uncoordinated and hasty kiss, stumbling as he kicked away his shoes and taking his hands off the demon almost begrudgingly to work at the buttons of his cassock. Mephisto disapproved, roughly pulling the priest’s arms back to encircle him again, awkwardly wriggling in the embrace to get his hands at the buttons himself. After all, he  _ was  _ a gentleman, unlike this one, who had snapped off a (pricey) button in his haste and had cast his (pricier) belt aside most carelessly. Stumbling against each other, Shiro had finally managed to cast off his cassock. In the flurry of motion, Mephisto had scored some of the skin over Shiro’s sternum, only now becoming aware of how much he had revealed his claws. Time to settle down – there was work to do yet should such a lovely situation not end in misery. Drawing a deep breath, he willed the claws away, for now, struggling to contain himself in the rush of heat between them. Shiro’s hands tracked back over Mephisto’s pale skin, marveling at how soft it felt. Of course, of course. Even the short hairs over his chest were bizarrely soft, in great contrast to Shiro, rough and earthly. It drew Mephisto in – it had been some time since he had taken a lover. It was far overdue and this particular prey was especially captivating. For every detail he knew about Shiro, there was another something to guess at, and the irony of watching the priest fall deeper and deeper into his own desires for a demon was immensely satisfying. He slipped his fingers into Shiro’s waistband, working it down, jolting slightly as Shiro stumbled into him again. Shiro had returned his attention to Mephisto’s neck, hands settling on his hips and pulling their bodies closer in a blatant plea for friction. He urged them both backwards, Mephisto tumbling atop him onto the bed. The demon slid off to the side, Shiro remaining locked with him and catching him in a kiss again. A finger snap evaded his attention, too distracted at the moment by the king’s roving hands and stuttered breath. Shiro grunted softly into the kiss at Mephisto groping greedily at him, allowing the demon to shift his hand. 

“You’ll allow this?” 

Shiro, shoving away embarrassment, knotted his fingers in Mephisto’s hair and pulled him back into the kiss, an understood but bashful approval. A husky sigh escaped his lips at the demon’s touch, the feeling of fingers sinking into him foreign, slightly startling, entirely thrilling. 

“C-cold-“ he’d broken from the kiss, staring again into hooded green eyes that searched him intently to gauge his response. 

Mephisto stroked lightly at his hair with his free hand, smiling gently. It was almost comforting, if Shiro were to forget  _ what  _ he was up against at the moment, “It’ll be alright, tell me if it hurts,”

“Awful courteous of you,” 

A mocking kiss to his nose, “Kleine Shiro, I always say manners are important, especially when inviting a lover to your bed. Surely you know this, with all your success,” 

“Mmph,” Shiro was noncommittal, but still bucked against Mephisto near mindlessly. The demon urged him closer. 

“Go on, go ahead. Whatever feels nice to you,”  _ It’s nice watching you act so lewd, anyhow.  _

The priest seemed to hang on the words, sighing again as he moved against the other, the combination of friction against his cock and the almost enragingly slow work of Mephisto’s hands sparking something distinctly animal in his mind, “h…how many fingers is that?”

“Two,”

“More,”

“Alright, alright,” 

Shiro tightened his fingers in the locks of purple-green hair, gritting his teeth, “Fuck-“ 

“Too much?”

“No. Go deeper.”

A low chuckle as Mephisto obliged, studying Shiro’s face intently, “Greedy, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” Shiro exhaled shakily, “Fuck, this is weird.” 

The demon cocked his head, “Hm…? Do you need a break?”

Shiro’s response was almost panicked, “No! Wh- why would I?” 

Mephisto gave a noncommittal grunt, “Well, it’s new, it seems.” 

“Funny change of pace from you being so.. mmph- yeah keep doing that, obnoxious and forward earlier.” 

“I just know when to slow down, unlike you. Most things in life are push and pull, if you look around. Knowing how to read signs on doors is just one case, there’s really so many more,” 

“Can you, like…  _ fuck-  _ not give me riddles at a time like this?” 

“Riddles…?”

“Whatever!”

Mephisto narrowed his eyes, an amused hum escaping his lips as he continued to work at Shiro, “I am proud of you though. You’re being so much more honest right now, not even putting up a complaint. Can you tell me the truth now?” 

Shiro blanched, feeling something grip his heart. He became strikingly aware of the situation he was in and it hit him much like a train might hit and obliterate a terrified deer. Mephisto pissed him off, that was a given. He was pretty sure he returned the favor more often than not. He also was, admittedly, pretty intimidating, even moreso since learning just who and what he was. Shiro’s own affinity for the demon waxed and waned on a regular basis, oscillating between spite and nervousness to something warmer, even touching on some jovial sense of camaraderie. Between it all fell something else, some hideous manifestation from all these factors being tossed in a pot together – he had a certain confusing and lewd gravity to him. It inevitably sparked a curious thrill to most who had the misfortune of catching his attention and getting reeled in too near. Shiro, lustful man he was and caught on the hook of something feral and taboo, was as good as gone the minute he first let himself listen earnestly to the demon. Days, weeks, months of stolen glances, mental turmoil, too-convenient moments artfully drove them together like binary stars locked in their hungry dance, the lesser of the two to be inevitably consumed by a ruthless and fiery devourer. Right now, Shiro let himself slip into Dionysian drunkenness in the green gaze and dangerous embrace of an apex seducer, and pretending otherwise would go nowhere but humiliation. He drew another quivering breath, drinking in the way this felt as he tried to pierce Mephisto with his gaze, “Just because I want to fuck you doesn’t mean I don’t still want to tear you to shreds, so don’t get any ideas.”

“A bit late to tell me not to have ideas,” Mephisto purred, shifting away from Shiro. He rolled onto his back, stretching languidly like a cat in a sunbeam, the look he shot Shiro was yet another challenge and test of his moxie. His gaze flicked from Shiro’s eyes, to his own member and back again, some effortless and overconfident gesture that irritated Shiro as much as it enticed him. 

_ Pompous bastard… _ regardless of the bite in his thought, he moved, staring the demon down as he clambered over to straddle him. Mephisto nonchalantly offered the lube to him. The priest snatched it unceremoniously before the demon could make a remark, grumbling under his breath as he took some in his hand and slicked it over Mephisto’s cock. He felt the demon’s eyes roving over him, ravenous and lustful. Something about it sent a shudder down Shiro’s spine. It was just so  _ raw, _ compared to any look a human had ever given him. To wipe that smirk off his face, to reduce him to a mess, little more than a whimpering maiden – oh, the satisfaction of it would almost be too much. He opted to hold his tongue – actions speak louder than words, yes? He cracked a smirk right back, moving slowly, searching for some weakness in the demon’s composure. He grit his teeth as he took the king, hissing through them, furrowing his brow. 

“Too much?” Mephisto inquired, running a hand over Shiro’s hip, “I get you want to be the tough guy all the time, but slow down or this isn’t going to end we-“

“I  _ know!  _ Shut up!” Shiro spat, drawing a shaking breath as he let the demon sink deeper. It was strange, not really like he had imagined. It stung, but not so much as he expected, and the tension abated fairly quickly. Another deep breath, lower. 

“Ach, kleine Shiro… Not all at once…” 

Shiro shot him a venomous look, but understood, easing up slightly. Again, a breath hissed through his teeth, tensing his jaw, trying to relax. 

“Shiro, liebling…?” 

The priest’s red eyes caught green. Stuck again.  _ Damnit.  _ That  _ look.  _ Hooded eyes, lazy and lecherous, deft hands that settled on his hips after urging Shiro to stroke himself. Shiro finally let himself down, a gasp slipping from his mouth as he settled to the hilt.  _ So fucking deep- _ foreign and thrilling. He stilled himself there, continuing to work at his own cock. The demon kept him held in his eyes, drinking in the sight before him – just beautifully, utterly corrupt, but it wasn’t like this was the first or last time this man had or would break his vows. However, getting to experience him breaking them? Utterly priceless and erotic. The taboo of it all was comedic, but he was aware of the weight of it to someone taking a human perspective –  _ that,  _ at least, was exciting. 

Shiro bucked slightly, a soft hum in his throat, unkempt eyebrows knitted in strained desperation. 

“Go on, give your king a show, won’t you? It’s your turn, after all, so feel free to see me as merely your plaything, hmm?” that languid tongue drew over his lips. 

Shiro gasped, shifting his legs and easing himself into a pace. He found the angle he needed, grunting at the pressure – how had he not discovered this before? The last of the pain abated, giving way to near blinding pleasure. Mephisto dug his nails into Shiro’s hips, urging him down onto his cock more roughly, grinding slowly against him, finding the rhythm he needed to draw more rotten cries from the priest’s mouth. Losing himself a moment, he found his tail snaking up around Shiro’s body, holding him possessively, long purple-green fur soft against his skin. Shiro shuddered at the added stimulation, growing more feverish. Sweat slicked his bangs now, dripping onto Mephisto. He’d moved his hands from his cock to brace himself against the demon, craving more friction, wanting him deeper. The more mindlessly lewd he got, the more Mephisto was drawn in, helpless to the sheer sordidness of it. Shiro was tight around him, his weight, the roughness of his hands, the increasingly loud sighs that clawed their way from his throat bidding the same from him. Shiro was only half cognizant of it, but it spurred him on, locking him into vicious determination. Mephisto let out a ragged moan, the haze of the moment blurring everything. That was it. 

Shiro shuddered, rolling his hips. At this point, he looked all too pathetic to the demon, a drooling mess as he came down again, a sharp gasp and heavier shake wracking Shiro. 

“M-Mephi-  _ shit,  _ I’m close-“ 

“Call my  _ name _ ,” 

“Me-“

“My  _ name _ , Father Fujimoto,”

“Samael..! Please-  _ fuck,  _ I can’t-“

“Beg.”

“Please, Samael, can I cum?”

His eyes were more lecherous and hungry than ever. No response save for a muffled grunt.

Shiro grew annoyed, “…d-don’t do this to me now, jackass!”

“Beg again. You earned it.” 

He couldn’t spit out another question, only another pitiful plea, “Samael, seriously, I—”

“Contain yourself. I said beg.” 

“Samael, please let me cum,” 

“Komme für mich,” 

“Wh-“

Mephisto cut him off, gazed fixed and stern, “ _ Komme. _ ” 

A quivering cry was wrenched from Shiro as he reached his climax, whole body electrified. It was enough for Mephisto, who drove into him, pulling him unceremoniously by the hips. Shiro set his jaw again with a groan, vision sparking at feeling the demon twitch inside him. Drawing shaking breaths, Shiro gingerly moved off, rolling to lay alongside the demon. Mephisto had caught his breath much more quickly, grinning as he took note of Shiro’s heaving chest, the beat of his heart just barely perceptible. Mephisto shifted to lay on his side, stroking through Shiro’s sweat-drenched hair. Deceptively comforting. 

“That was to your liking, I take it?” 

“I hate you so much,” it was a rough sigh, full of forced venom.

“I know…” he studied Shiro, noting the marks he’d left scoring his pale skin, “We’re…er-…” 

Shiro narrowed his eyes, prodding at the clawmarks on his hips, “Yeah, you’re gonna have to treat me for temptaint, jackass,” 

Mephisto offered an apologetic chuff, pursing his lips in a tight, bashful grin, “Of course, my deepest apologies…”

“And I expect a day off,”

“With the fever you’ll inevitably come down with? Very well. At least you’ll think of me,” 


	10. Yellow Carnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's back sooner than Mephisto expected, with plenty more to discuss and a lot more determination. Perhaps he's finding his footing in dealing with this demonic nuisance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow carnations can mean rejection, disappointment, and contempt.

Some days had passed. Shiro fidgeted with his lighter, grimacing when it didn’t spark at his first few attempts. Finally successful, he took a long drag from his cigarette, listlessly blowing a stream of smoke towards the dusky horizon. 

There’d been plenty weighing on his mind, and he wasn’t sure if the permeating off-kilter feeling was simply recovering from the mashou or the circumstances that led to it in the first place. 

Strangely, Mephisto had kept his word and even given him three full days off rather than the one he’d expected. Usually, he would send Shiro back out with little thought to his health unless it was something especially dire. Discomfort was of little concern to him so long as the pawn in question was resilient and, in the basest sense, safe. 

To be fair, a mashou from a king was rough to deal with, even as minor as the wounds were. The fever hit Shiro hard less than an hour after their encounter but subsided quickly enough. For now, he was back to teaching, at least.

The priest took another drag, rolling the cigarette around pensively in his fingers. What did any of that mean? While he had, admittedly, hoped for something like that, the circumstances were less than stellar. For that matter, why did he enjoy it? The first question was easy enough to answer, it really meant nothing. It wasn’t like a demon king caught feelings and neither did Shiro, so that much was surely a non-issue. 

Of course, the whole debacle was just an exercise in mockery of Shiro’s weaknesses, but it wasn’t like Mephisto made any attempt to hide that in the least. What bothered Shiro was just _why _he felt any attraction at all to the demon – he was the cause of nearly all his troubles, and not just by way of being partly responsible for his existence in the first place. _Demons. Always trouble. Always fuckin’ trouble. _

Shiro was unsure how long he’d been standing there. Cigarette spent, he crushed it beneath his shoe and promptly lit another. He finally made his resolve and started walking, squaring his shoulders in a paltry attempt to bolster his confidence. Mephisto’s advice echoed in his mind –acknowledgement and acceptance were key to control, to not slipping and giving in to any demon’s charms.

Then there was the matter of Yuri, who seemed to effortlessly get on the level of almost any demon and get them to behave cooperatively. The few times he’d met with her and Mephisto at the same time, he was taken aback at just how amicable he was towards her. _Nah. That could just be a Mephisto thing, not a Yuri thing. Bastard’s more of a lecher than me. Tch. _ Whatever. He was determined to bring the king tumbling down in one sense or another, and right now just which sense it would be was anybody’s guess. 

He mulled over the long talks they’d had, the ones that drifted into the wee hours with words that mingled with the burn of whisky, and it sent a brief shiver down his spine. Those meetings always felt so _comfortable, _despite everything about Mephisto being undeniably unsettling to anyone who knew him. 

The demon would give a little, give a little more, and patiently take whatever Shiro spilled out of his mouth as his guard would slip away. _Silvertongued bastard. _Yet, there had been a shift in recent times. 

At the start of this little tradition, the shreds Mephisto would give to calm Shiro and lull him into a temporary trust were always just crumbs of truth or something inconsequential laced in pretty words. 

The past few times they’d talked, Mephisto let himself delve into much deeper topics, even stopping short a few times when he realized no human language afforded him a means to explain his point appropriately. He’d cut away with a wave of the hand, muttering some comment that he preferred languages that allowed one to run words against each other like train cars to make the point one needed. 

He’d said something else recently that had been buzzing around Shiro’s head like an unshakeable gnat.

“_Shiro, a crucial thing for you to know is that you are nothing, and you are important. Don’t try hard to understand it. Just know it_,” 

That particular day, Mephisto had led him on a brief but chaotic cat-and-mouse chase through the mansion. He recalled thundering down the hall outside his office, feeling it was at least ten times longer than it ought to be. Up and down, the demon’s voice playfully led him, chiding him with quips about the importance of deduction skills and determination. He’d nearly careened into Mephisto after seeing him at the other end of one of the halls, but of course the bastard had waited, waited, waited, and sidestepped in just the nick of time to let Shiro stumble awkwardly past. Before he managed to stop, he found himself hefted towards a ceiling that never met him only to hit with the weight of a freefall that slowed to something almost calming.

He’d landed straight into Mephisto’s bed. Dumbstruck, the gaze they’d shared felt just a little too long and a little too vulnerable before the normal predatory glint came back to Mephisto.

He’d gently fixed Shiro’s glasses with a wry smile, but every word that followed hit like a ten-ton weight.

_“You are nothing, and you are important.” _

Shiro shook his head. In some ways, that night seemed almost more hazy and dreamlike than last week’s debacle. He wasn’t sure what he’d seen behind his eyes before he uttered a characteristically cryptic statement like that, but he swore he’d maybe seen it before. If nothing, he was sure he saw it again last week in the heat of things.

Shiro took another drag, kept grounded by the feeling of his boots hitting the pavement. Plenty to think about, plenty to stress over these days, and terrifyingly little time to process it all. Work was enough trying to balance teaching and shifts on the observation team without all this, but the free time he’d had to be alone with his thoughts the past few days was almost worse. 

Between Yuri and himself, he figured he really ought to know enough about demon behavior by now. Making sense of what had taken Goro was somehow less complicated than Mephisto, who followed all the expectations only to conveniently break them just enough to be frustrating. Worse yet, he did it with such purpose and calculation yet remained impossible to pin down. 

In turn, Shiro made it a point to try and break expectations, but it was difficult and vexing. His mind raced to a white blur as he made his way up the steep, narrow streets, watching the foreboding estate grow larger. 

Warm lights cast from the windows glowed, deceptively calm and inviting. Smash. Lighter out again. Another cigarette. A long drag. A quickened heart. His head hurt. Shiro finally arrived, staring at the immense, ornate building with a disgusted grimace. The ostentatious edifice never stopped irritating him. He made for the door, but hesitated, finding himself pacing nervously before it. 

High above, two figures fixed their eyes on the frustrated priest, who was now muttering to himself between drags on his cigarette. 

“Sir, it appears he’s come back sooner than you expected. What should I do about him?” 

Mephisto grinned, narrowing his eyes, “Excellent. You can let him in, Belial, and feel free to send him straight to me. Well, perhaps I’ll meet him myself…or do you think I should surprise him?” 

Belial did not respond at first, knowing the question was rhetorical. Mephisto’s eyes flickered briefly to him in a demand for a reply, compelling him to answer, “Any option would be interesting, sir,” 

“Yes, it would. Say, the poor man looks like he could use a drink. Could you set out the Toki?” 

“Right away, sir.” 

“Thank you. Now, I’m curious to know how the night will go. Do as you wish the rest of the evening, just let us alone, if you would,” his voice came unusually softly, distant in thought.

“Understood, sir,” at that, Belial turned on his heel and set off, footfalls echoing through the massive hallway. No sense questioning a master as eccentric as his. Mephisto turned his eyes back to Shiro, watching him curiously with a lick of his lips. This would be most interesting indeed. 

Below, Shiro was finally emboldened enough to approach. Before he could knock, the massive door swung open, Belial greeting him with a curt bow, “Good evening, Father Fujimoto. Sir Pheles has been expecting you,” he stood aside, gesturing for Shiro to pass. Shiro curled his lip and gave a brusque nod to the demon as he continued past. _Of course. _

Not far down, Mephisto appeared around a corner, casting a lazy smile towards him, “Oh, good evening, Shiro. You’re looking much better! Come along now,” he briefly slung an arm around Shiro, urging him along before reluctantly pulling away. 

Shiro grimaced as he looked Mephisto over while they walked. He’d left his pale yukata tied loosely, open partway down his chest. 

Mephisto noticed the hungry glances, try as Shiro did to be discreet. It was endearing to watch him wrestle with himself.

“You came unannounced again. I could have had other plans, you know,” Mephisto teased.

Shiro grunted noncommittally, following Mephisto through a doorway. Not looking to him for approval, he slumped into a chair, wiping his hands down his face with a sigh. 

Mephisto said nothing, but moved quickly to ready their usual glasses and pour whisky into each. Shiro eyed him curiously, muttering to himself at the stupid swish of his hip, the stupid fucking ostentatious flair he had to shoehorn into every waking goddamn second of his pitiful existence. 

The king padded back over, sliding onto the chair adjacent to Shiro after handing him a glass. Mephisto took a small sip, the shifting ice clinking softly as he turned it in his hand, “I figured after all the trouble from the other day, you’d benefit from a drink. I made sure to have your favorite on hand~”

“When don’t you?” Shiro snorted.

Mephisto hummed a non-answer, teasing and mocking as always. He sat back, tossing a leg up to cross the other and shifting the hem of the yukata. He smiled over another sip of whisky at the priest, “You could show some grace, it’s the proper response to hospitality,” 

Shiro sighed raggedly under his breath, “You always were bigger on human etiquette than I am,” 

“It’s awfully fun,” he purred, “An ever changing game to keep up with.”

“Whatever gets you through the day. Let me make you cut to the chase this time, what do you want?”

The king narrowed his eyes, “Every time with you, Shiro. I appreciate how forward you are, but as I recall, you’re the one who came calling for me, not the other way around. What do _you _want?” 

“I was going to give you a piece of my mind and tell you what an absolute pain and terror you are.” 

“Again, it isn’t like you aren’t the same to me, kleine Shiro. Just accept we’re at an impasse on that front and move on… it isn’t like we need a repeat of last week’s debacle, hmmm?” He knew the attempt to deter the human wouldn’t work. Shiro was a sharp man, never a quitter, and perhaps the first to cut through him with a gaze almost as piercing as his own.

Shiro took a draught of his whisky, another sigh slipping past his lips. Where could he even start with that? The words made him freeze. Mephisto nonchalantly shifted his foot, but his eyes glinted something foreboding and darkly curious. 

“Alright, alright. But I don’t get it. Why _that_? I got your stupid lesson, you could have just told me something like that. But honestly, at this point I don’t put much past you,” 

Mephisto mulled this over a moment, not taking his eyes off Shiro’s. That deep red was such a pretty and intense color. “What you don’t get yet is yourself. I hardly tried at all and you dove in headfirst. You’ve either got a weakness to demons, or a weakness to me, and I’d argue it’s both. You’re foolhardy, but for a human, I wouldn’t call you an idiot. My motives are simple enough, you know them already.” 

Shiro chewed at his lip, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, “Not entirely,” 

“Tsk, tsk. I know you’re brighter than that. I’d say it was an elegant means to get a lot of things out of the way quickly. We both got something we’ve long desired, and I’ve made multiple points quite clear to you for your own good. Now, if it’s left you feeling lost, how many people have you left that way? And for what, carelessness? Cowardice? You’ll never become stronger by throwing your feelings around in abstract ways and burying yourself under your own misery and shame. You doggedly pierce down to the core of every matter but yourself.”

“Figures. Nice, going straight for the jugular, there, too. Tch, almost sounds like you’re asking me to be more noble or something,” the statement came as a low and husky growl.

“Goodness, what do you take me for?” Mephisto feigned the shock of an upper-class housewife, splaying his long fingers over his chest.

“That’s fair.” Another sip. 

“Well, I said before I’d like your honesty. Now that you’ve mostly recovered, let’s hear it!” Mephisto straightened up, beaming expectantly. 

Shiro ground his teeth, “You already _got that_ and I found I don’t have a taste for demon,” 

Mephisto blinked, then burst out laughing, whisky sloshing from his glass onto his leg, “You never- haha! You never cease to surprise me, Shiro! You’ve got a taste for almost anything that moves and will take you so long as it feels like a conquest!” 

Shiro furrowed his brow in frustration, “Yeah, maybe a while ago but you’re off the mark this time, and did you ever consider that it’s pretty hypocritical to chide me for ever repeating questions or asking ones you decide are obvious when you’re doing the same? Like you always say, why not use your deduction skills?”

The king’s face dropped, noticing Shiro’s rage spiking, “Settle down, please. We’re all beholden to some vices,” 

“You’re _all _vices,” 

Mephisto raised a hand in soft acknowledgement, “Mm…I make no claims to the contrary. It’s quite amusing you decided to pursue so many paths that require so much sacrifice and restraint. But you’ve always enjoyed bending and breaking rules, so I suppose I shouldn’t be so taken aback. Before you say anything, I do find it endlessly charming,” he rose to his feet, looming over Shiro with an utterly shit-eating grin plastered on his face, “Now, would you like another drink, or are you going to slow down?” 

“No, I’d rather get this over with and choke you.”

“Sounds fun. I dare you.” 

Shiro hesitated. _Was that a threat? If he acted, he was sure to be killed and the whole thing would be covered up, no doubt. _

Mephisto hummed to himself, taking the glass from Shiro’s quivering hand and sashaying off to refill it. Upon his return, he lingered over Shiro again, fixing him in hooded eyes. 

“Here you are. Scared to take me up, hmm?” 

Shiro stared at it for a moment, then slammed the glass on the coffee table in front of him. He tracked Mephisto as he shifted off to the side, sitting on the arm of the chair. His yukata now slipped slightly off one shoulder. 

With a shuddering breath, Shiro recalled the marks he had left on the demon’s pale skin. What his lithe form felt like pressed against him. He blinked a few times, trying to shake the memory out of his head. _Not now, not now, not now! _

Mephisto noticed the spark in Shiro’s nerves, delighting in the way it felt to have his gaze rove over him. He swirled his drink thoughtfully, finally moving away and nonchalantly falling back onto the couch across from Shiro as he took a drink. The silence between them, as usual, felt like it dragged on as it settled in. 

Shiro stared at the king, berating himself when he realized he probably looked like a slack-jawed fool. Muttering, he downed part of the whisky and got to his feet, head rushing. _Fuck. _Across the table, Mephisto snapped his fingers, producing a glass of water which he offered to the priest.

“On second thought, you need not risk breaking any of my things and I’d rather you slow down. Here. Are you leaving so soon?” 

“No.” Gruffly, Shiro took it and sipped at it, dropping in to sit next to Mephisto. He stared blankly ahead, trying to push away any thoughts that dared clamor for attention, “Anyway. I still don’t get you, and it’s pissing me off. For starters, you really could have just confessed to me, or asked me outright how I felt, you know.”

“You say that a lot. You should listen to Yuri more. As for your other concerns, we both know you never would have admitted to anything beyond the spite you feel for me, probably even if your life depended on it.”

“Tch. Can you not bring Yuri into this?” 

“Well, she’s the expert on demon behavior and a top-notch tamer. You could be, too. Even just paying closer attention instead of taking this ‘shoot first’ approach you’ve always got with demons could go a long way,” Mephisto winked playfully at him.

“What could there even be to study so hard? You’re all jackasses only out for yourselves, worse than a pack of hyenas. What else is there to it?”

“Sound familiar?” 

Shiro rolled his eyes. 

Mephisto contined, “The difference between us is whether or not we operate under false pretenses.” 

Shiro raised an eyebrow, considering this, “Well, that’s still a load of nonsense coming from you, especially.” 

“Hm. No, we’re just not really creative enough for that in the first place, me included.” 

No use arguing down that dead end. A silence drifted between them again. Shiro finally relaxed back into the couch, eyes flicking to the ornate ceiling and tracing the gold patterns in the moulding, “…hey, Mephisto?” 

Mephisto made a face, “Hm?” 

“What do you even want from me?” 

“Not much. You’re just interesting to watch and to tease. You’ve got gumption and intelligence that most don’t and can put that potential into a lot of places, maybe some pretty lofty purposes. You’re as consistent as you are mutable. It’s really quite compelling. Most of all, you have endured until now. That’s fascinating.” 

“You’re still hiding from me.” Shiro locked with his gaze again, trying to bore into the demon the way he did to him.

Mephisto paused, downing the last of his drink, “It’s no fun to spoil a good yarn. Besides, there are options. I don’t know exactly what will happen, just the possibilities.” 

“Well, then tell me! I’m at my wits’ end here, cycling through every possibility I can think up.” Shiro snapped.

“That would change it all and muck it up, and you know I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I won’t hurt you, though. I promise that much. I’ve been promising that.” 

“You’ve already broken that promise,”

“You sound so human. I’ve _challenged _you.” Mephisto’s voice carried a compelling bite to it as he spoke, “You endured, and I wouldn’t push past that. Every good teacher and every good leader challenges others and makes them think, haven’t you even demonstrated that yourself? How else are you supposed to learn about yourself and the world around you? My point is, I adore Assiah. I adore humans, especially your creativity. I don’t want that to be lost, at the very least.” 

Shiro pondered this briefly. It didn’t change the fact that Mephisto lived up to his names and was much more a thrill-seeking raven pulling wolves’ tails than he was any sort of protector. At best, he was just an overpowered nuisance flapping about and selfishly guarding the shiny things he gathered. Shiro was satisfied enough with this conclusion for now. It made sense, but he was still out of sorts. 

He glanced back over at Mephisto, finding him doing the same. A smirk pulled at the corner of the king’s mouth, green eyes hooded, waiting for something. That same feeling flooded through Shiro again – that bizarre mix of spite and desire. He was being toyed with again. No, he’d bring him down. 

“Shiro…I can’t say I recognize that look in your eyes, even if it’s almost familiar,” Mephisto murmured, “I’d almost be frightened,” _Give in. _

Another moment of hesitation. He wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face more than anything right now, one way or another. Catlike eyes conveyed a clear challenge. 

Shiro pushed forward, hovering over the demon, breath hot on his face. Mephisto’s lip curled as he licked over it, showing a sharp canine. _I dare you. _

The distance was closed between them. Shiro was hesitant for only a moment before kissing Mephisto roughly. As quickly as it began, Shiro pulled away, straightening up and casting a haughty smirk as he stepped back. 

Mephisto tilted his head in curiosity, looking much like a baffled and expectant puppy as he waited for more. Instead, Shiro turned to leave. 

“You’re not very good conversation tonight. Lemme know when you got more work for me.” A dismissive wave saw Shiro setting off without a backward glance.


	11. Dog Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out with Yuri and Rick is well in order, and a break might just be what's needed to embolden Shiro the next time Mephisto comes calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up for some nsfw later on in the chapter and a bit of light bondage.   
And unorthodox use of holy water. Heh. 
> 
> Dog rose can mean "pleasure and pain".  
The fruit (rosehips) and flowers of dog roses are edible, and the plant is invasive in some parts of the world. Some tales attribute its common name to its ability to cure a bite from a mad dog.

Shiro sighed as he stepped into his room. Yet another trivial mission. What was Mephisto trying to do now? The past three jobs he’d been sent on he felt they could have been done blindfolded, all simple tasks with laughably low-level demons. It felt more like a clear insult than a break, and even the stress of his shifts in Section 13 was beginning to sound preferable.

He lit up a cigarette and slumped into a couch that had seen much better days. At least the evening promised a decent enough time with Rick and Yuri, and perhaps they’d have ideas. And at worst, they’d make sure he got home safely if he decided to resign himself to blacking out the events of the past few weeks. 

\---

“Hi, Shiro!” Yuri chirped happily as Shiro came out to meet her, “Rick said he’d meet us down at the pub today, he had a couple errands to run first. How have you been? We haven’t gotten to really talk in awhile,” 

Shiro sighed, falling into step beside her, “Alright. Life always sucks to some extent, though, right?”

“Bah, you’re always acting so downtrodden. You gonna find a date tonight? You’ve looked pretty worn out lately.” it took an effort to push away the twinge of frustration that welled in her as she uttered the question.

He shook his head, “Nah.” 

“It’s been awhile…hasn’t it?” 

“It has. Maybe I’m _trying _to shape up, a little bit at least.” 

Yuri nodded thoughtfully, “Mm.. I suppose that’s not a bad thing. It still sounds like you’ve got a lot on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

Shiro hesitated, taking a drag off his cigarette, “I will when we get to the pub with Rick I guess. It’s not really a big deal, I’m just a little annoyed.” 

A soft giggle, “When aren’t you?” 

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh in turn, “Well, true. You know me too well. I, ah… how have you been?” 

“Not bad, kind of the same old, same old. You haven’t been in to work with me in awhile. You’re still on the observation team, right?”

“Yeah, I am. Like I said, I’ll get into it at the pub, but I’m slated to be back on shift next week. How have things been going with Rinka?” Shiro replied, hooking a thumb in his belt as they continued on. He held back a soft smile at the concern Yuri had, the last rays of sunlight edging them both in fire. It was a long and tiresome walk, but the fresh air and Yuri’s company was already enough to melt away some of the stress.

\---

“Shiro! Yuri! Over here, I already got us a round comin!” Rick’s rough voice rang out. They spotted him waving them over from a quiet corner of the small pub. Shiro and Yuri ambled over to him, sliding into the free seats next to him. 

“Hey, Rick, how are you?” 

Rick smiled at Yuri, “Good as I’ll ever be, eh? How have edits on your latest book been going?” 

“Pretty well so far, I’ve noticed some more interesting things about goblins so I’ve added that in and I’m trying to decide how to sort everything out on typical demon behavior. They’re all so different, but there’s some stuff in common, right? It’s hard to decide how to parse it all out… I’m thinking of asking around to see if anyone else has done similar work elsewhere in the world. Maybe we could collaborate?” 

Rick chuckled, “I’m sure either way it will be just fine. Even your first edition was excellent – if I were even half the writer…hm? Shiro?” he blinked, noticing Shiro had already nearly finished off his first beer of the night and was staring blankly into the wall. 

Shiro turned to him, “Huh? What?” 

“You might wanna settle down there…we’ve been here less than 5 minutes, champ. Something bugging you?” 

Yuri chimed in again, leaning over the table, “Oh yeah! Shiro, what were you gonna tell us about?” 

The priest sighed heavily, “Y-yeah, kinda. I mean-“

“-You’re always pissed about _something_-“

“Rick.” Shiro cut him off, “Anyway, yeah. It’s Sir Pheles…not that that’s out of the ordinary, heh. He’s been sending me on these…just, overly simple missions lately. Like the past few have been worth jack shit, I could do ‘em blindfolded, and he’s sending me out with just exwires and stuff outside of like, my normal teaching duties. It’s just weird. I think he’s trying to condescend me or get under my skin,” 

Yuri blinked, “Hmm. Well, you were badly hurt a few days ago, right? Maybe he’s just putting you on easy stuff for now to make sure you’re totally recovered. You are one of our branch’s best, after all. It’s probably best you got the leave you did instead of wearing yourself out or getting hurt worse.”

“Mephisto? Actually giving a rat’s ass about any of us? Don’t make me laugh. Also…you…uh, heard about that, huh?” Shiro glanced away nervously, scratching at the back of his head.

Rick cut in, “Yeah. It sounded kinda bad. What even happened? I heard something about a mashou from a really high level demon,” 

Shiro pulled at his collar nervously, “Wellll… It was kind of from a king,” 

Yuri jumped to her feet, slamming her hands on the table, “_What?! Shiro!!” _

Rick snickered, “Yuri, settle down. I already see where this is going. Alright, man, spill.” 

He swallowed hard, trying to decide how to best give a sufficient explanation, “I…kind of got into a bit of a disagreement with the director and maybe took a swing at ‘im. So he grabbed my arm and ended up gettin’ his claws in there pretty good. We treated it right after but, damn, I still can’t remember the last time I had a fever so bad. Could swear I was hearing circus music for awhile there…” 

Yuri and Rick exchanged a look, mouths agape. 

“Shiro, I don’t know what to say other than _holy shit, dude_,” Rick began, “And he didn’t do anything about it? No disciplinary action?” 

Shiro grumbled under his breath, feeling a flush come to his cheeks, “Well, you know him, he’s a weird guy. I must have caught him in a good mood, I guess, or maybe I’m too important at this point, ahah- I’m starting to think maybe this piddly nonsense is the punishment, or maybe he figured that mashou was enough, even though I think that was an accident. But my point is, I’m feeling fine now! I wanna get back out there and feel at least somewhat useful, you know?”

Yuri pondered this over a sip of beer, “Hm… maybe you just need to go talk to him and let him know. Again, you’re one of our best, he’s probably itching to get you back out there too with us being so short on hands. And if you’re feeling condescended and stuff, just tell him that. He’s usually easy enough to get on with if you’re straightforward, even if he’s got a few screws loose,” 

The priest sighed, rubbing his temples, “What, have _you _ever even dealt with him one on one? He’s impossible!” 

“Really? I’ve had to meet with him a few times and he’s always been pretty agreeable. He even gave me a coupon for an ice cream I mentioned liking once when I had to call out for a few days, remember, when I had that nasty flu? I don’t blame you for keeping your guard up around him, but I wouldn’t call him impossible,” 

Shiro pulled his lip in disgust, “You’re always getting too buddy-buddy with demons. No wonder he likes you. Maybe it’s just because you’re useful and pretty and a good tamer. He always goes easy on cute girls, anyway,” 

“Well, sure, understanding demons does help an awful lot, but maybe some of it has to do with the ability to hold an actual conversation instead of seeing every interaction as some kind of confrontation,” Yuri admonished.

Meanwhile, Rick’s eyes flicked from one to the other as he quietly nursed his drink. _Oh, boy, here we go again… _

Shiro ran a hand through his hair, looking more than exasperated, “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to him and see what happens. Good enough for ya? Just… don’t forget who and what he is, got it?” 

“Mhm!” Satisfied with that answer, Yuri nodded curtly, flashing a gentle grin before starting again, “Oh, have either of you seen…” 

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

“It was nice of you to visit again, Father Fujimoto” Mephisto teased, handing a glass of whisky to Shiro, “and under such a friendly pretense,” 

“Well, I figured it’d be a long talk. Rather not drag that out during business hours when we both get interrupted left and right,” Shiro took a small sip, settling into his usual chair. 

Mephisto found his seat as well, “Alright, then, what’s on your mind?” 

Shiro stifled a snarl, _You know damn well… _“First off, why have you been sending me on such pathetic missions lately?” 

Scratching at his chin, Mephisto blinked slowly, “I just can’t please you, can I? I send you out on a big job, you earn lots of medals, and you complain. I give you a bit of a break and you complain. What do you want?” 

Shiro didn’t respond, just narrowing his eyes at the demon. Enough games.

Mephisto started up again with a shrug, “You’d also been pretty badly injured, and that was my fault this time. It’d be a shame if you did something too strenuous and laid yourself out again. We can’t have that in these times. Big things are brewing, and we needed you back on the observation team as safely and quickly as possible.” 

Shiro grumbled, refusing to chase down the baited answer Mephisto offered, “Yeah, alright. That actually makes sense for once, but I’m feeling fine now. As much as I hate going back there, I’d at least like to be working normally again and to get back to doing things that are actually worth my time.” 

Mephisto smiled inwardly, taking a drink, “Understood. I’ll see to it. Now, this isn’t such a long talk, is it? What a shame. Well, let me know if there’s anyth-“

“I’m not done.” 

The demon blinked, trying to stifle his anticipation, “Oh?” 

He desperately wanted to ask about whatever ‘big things’ were allegedly brewing, but pushed the inclination away. Mephisto had planted that to distract him and he knew it, even if it were true. It was something that could be pursued more directly later. He took a drink, licking an errant drop from his lip, “You want that honesty?” 

Mephisto leaned forward, interest thoroughly piqued, “…hmm?” 

Shiro’s heart thudded in his chest. He didn’t trust the demon, but in some ways, the advice he’d received was right, and admitting everything might just give him the sense of power over himself that he needed. At the same rate, it was a risky gamble, but he decided the chance was worth it, “You’re a jackass.” He hesitated, swallowing hard.

“Ah-“ 

“And- and if it weren’t for you and your stupid little spat with your brothers, I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have to deal with your shit, and nothing says you couldn’t have just let me go. You’re a detestable creature, but interesting company. I don’t get it, I don’t get things on the same grandiose cosmic scale you seem to, and I don’t think I _can_ as much as I try. Every day, I wish you’d just level with me the way I’m slowly trying to level with you.” 

Mephisto held a hand up to stop him, “Fascinating. You’re such a pain that it makes you most interesting company, too. I _have_ been trying to explain what I can, up until the words or your cognition runs out. On top of that, what’s the sense in leaving no chase? No thrill? We’re not so different, stumbling forward after answers.” 

_Is he trying to open up to me? _Shiro blinked, surprised. _No, no, no. Nevermind that. Rule one is don’t listen to a demon’s flattery_, “Whatever you think of me is meaningless.”

Mephisto shot him a doubtful look, taking another sip of his drink. Shiro found himself questioning just what he had expected to take so long this evening, fidgeting nervously and looking off to the side in a pointed effort to avoid eye contact with the demon. Still, he couldn’t shake that there was still more he wanted to get dealt with right now.

Mephisto, in contrast, found the ensuing silence comfortable enough. Every new facet of Shiro that revealed itself was intriguing enough to him, and he was thoroughly interested by the guts, glory, and imagination that burned like low embers in the man before him.

A contradictory human. Not unusual, but not unlike himself, too. Shiro had an already storied life on top of untold potential and wild tales that surely lay ahead, made possible by that headstrong gumption that was rare in most men. Though in some ways so consistent, time had changed him. 

More than anything, Shiro was someone willing to sit down and have a good talk. Despite his past convictions in dreams of grandeur, it was clear that he was driven most by the thrill of challenges, curiosity, and a tragic hunger for freedom. 

Most mortals who drew so near approached with purely selfish wishes, gaming Mephisto as much as he gamed them in turn. Of course, his dealings with Shiro often had the air of a tense chess match, but as much as Shiro tried to play on Mephisto’s level it was clear he was a human of little pretense aside from a show of defensive, rough callousness. 

Regardless, those moments that alternated between fire and thoughtful listening were welcome, and Mephisto found himself unusually relaxed with him. As a human, he was a world weaver by default, and no clone had had the sheer wit and gall to break out of Section 13 before. What a crafty man he was to be fated to, well, nothing terribly comfortable.

He noticed Shiro was watching him carefully as usual and flashed a tight smile. It was clear he had more to say, and Mephisto would not be dragged into breaking the silence this time. The look on his face made it clear that the Toki and a cacophony of boiling thoughts was affecting him by now.

“Mephisto, you’re a weird one.” Shiro finally grumbled, “A real fuckin’ class act. I got another question tonight.”

“Yes?”

“Why _me_?”

Mephisto eyed him over his glass, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, “That’s a very broad question that you’ve asked before, and I’ve answered it multiple times. You had the gall to challenge me and the wit to make it within and beyond Section 13 by the skin of your teeth. It’d be a crime if I didn’t at least give you a chance. What else do you want me to give you?”

“And the-“

Mephisto cut him off, preempting the question. How many times was he going to ask? His dreamy interest in Shiro was quickly souring to irritation, “With all you’ve seen, you still don’t know the gravity of the situation we’re in?”

“That’s not it. Where is Lucifer now, anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Mephisto responded flatly.

“You’re lying. You can’t tell me shit drunk and think I’m going to forget so easily.”

Mephisto exhaled sharply, “Look, as a gentleman, I try not to drag friends into family matters too much.”

“_Friends?!_” Shiro hissed in disbelief.

He tilted his head curiously, “Isn’t that what you’d call it when you enjoy someone’s company?”

Shiro grit his teeth, “I think it’s finally settled in that it’s a lot more than that. Rick is my friend, Yuri’s my friend. They aren’t stressing me out and putting my life at stake.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Mephisto mused, “But you chose the path you took. I’m just doing my job, too. I only wish I had nothing to fret over.”

“You, fretting?!” 

“Just nevermind that,” 

Shiro sat back with a grunt, glancing to find his drink had been refilled. This gave him something to chew on. Recently, something barely perceptible in the demon’s resolve seemed to crack each time they met like this, and admittedly, Shiro hungered for it. 

Now, whether it was the Suntory talking or not, he wanted to approach the next thing burning at the forefront of his mind, “Alright. Only slivers again. Sometimes I wonder what _would _make you really talk,” he cracked a smirk. 

The husky quality that had come over Shiro’s voice made Mephisto perk up. It was different. And what was that, a pathetic and tacky threat? No mind. He’d play along and this seemed like fun, “I can’t say I quite know what you mean, Fujimoto. Tell me more?” 

Shiro grimaced at the forced formality, toying with the rosary that hung from his belt and fixing Mephisto in his deep ruddy gaze, “You’re so hedonistic, I hardly think you’d like a little pain,” at that, he got to his feet. Mephisto tracked Shiro carefully as he paced around him, genuinely unsure of what to make of the situation. 

Shiro was strikingly and unusually difficult to read this time, but a few possibilities ran through his mind. He wasn’t sure which option would be the more thrilling outcome. He’d certainly, certainly play along. 

“Try me, then. How could you hurt me in a way that matters?” Mephisto purred.

Shiro eyed him, letting out a pompous chuff, “Maybe I can’t. But I can annoy you, I can play at your games, and I can admit now that you caught me. And, well… I know holy water wouldn’t leave a scratch on you, but it wouldn’t be a comfortable experience, would it?” 

Mephisto raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “Oh? What game are you talking about this time, I wonder? And correct you are. But you won’t. I smell the fear on you,” 

“I’m not afraid if you retaliate, I know you won’t kill me,” 

“Why should I retaliate to something so pitiful in the first place? Don’t forget, I can collapse you like a neutron star with a flick of the wrist,” Mephisto leveled a baleful look into Shiro’s eyes, partially baring his teeth.

Shiro pulled his rosary from his belt, a smirk crossing his grizzled face, “I dare you.” 

“No, I dare _you._” 

Shiro drew closer, hovering over the demon and pressing his knee between Mephisto’s legs while roughly yanking his arms up over his head by the wrists, “Don’t fucking try me. I’m still here on some unfinished business. I can admit it to myself now. Now, if you haven’t been bluffing all along, keep still.” 

Mephisto felt a shiver run through him as Shiro’s hot breath hit his face. The priest worked quickly, binding his rosary around the king’s thin wrists, smiling gently at him, “Is it uncomfortable?” 

“In a tacky and humiliating sort of way, I could suppose so,” Mephisto chuckled softly, “Presumptuous of you to think that- hch-! To think that I’d want you again anyway,” 

“You’re telling me two very different things, director.” He punctuated this by nudging him gently with his knee, “You’re this hard already? And you call _me _pathetic?” 

Mephisto glowered at him, eyes flicking off to the side in admission. Shiro tipped his chin up to kiss him, pressing his tongue into the demon’s mouth without hesitation. Meanwhile, he fiddled at his belt again, pulling a small vial of holy water from it. He broke away, waving the vial in front of the king with a brash grin, “…this is your last chance to pussy out.” 

“I dare you,” Mephisto spat, trying to hide his excitement. He watched Shiro carefully as he opened the vial, holding his gaze as he tilted it and allowed a few drops to fall onto the demon’s ashen skin. 

Mephisto shuddered, a gasp escaping his lips. _Fuck, that stung. _Shiro grinned darkly at him, letting another few drops fall. He relished in the way the demon clenched his jaw at the sensation. 

“Felt your cock twitch. Fuckin’ weirdo,” Shiro chuffed, grinding his knee harder against the king. 

Mephisto sniggered back at him, “You’re the one blushing about it,” 

“Good luck keeping your composure,” 

“We’ll see about that,” Mephisto giggled haughtily again, “There’s nothing you could do to me that would be even the slightest surprise,” 

“I figure this is new,”

“This, specifically? Yes. Pain? No. Clergy? Nah.” Mephisto retorted casually.

Shiro traced his thumb over Mephisto’s jawline, expression almost gentle, “Hmhm… I never thought I’d see you this way. I wonder what els-“ 

“Instead of bluffing and blathering on like a windbag, why don’t you show me? Come on, let’s play break the king! I know you’ll lose~ Ach!” he was interrupted by a swift slap across the face and a yank to the hair. Shiro wrenched him up to meet his eyes. 

“Alright, then _you _shut your mouth, too,” 

“Shiro, I can’t abide this impude-“ Shiro’s hand connected with his face again, “Fuck! Stop that!” 

Shiro released him at his request, but gave a defiant look, pouring out the last of the vial over Mephisto’s chest. 

The demon hissed, shuddering heavily beneath the priest. At that, Shiro slid an arm underneath Mephisto, pulling him close and licking from his collarbone to where his jaw met his ear, moving to bite along the crook of his neck. 

He smirked at the barely concealed sigh it earned him. A rough hand ran down his side. Shiro shifted his knee to allow access, slipping his hand lower to graze over his cock.

He hesitated briefly, a fleeting thought of resistance passing through his mind but quashed by an urgent whine from the demon, who now gazed pitifully up at him, green eyes glinting, brow furrowed in frustration, the tips of his fangs barely visible behind parted lips. 

That caught his attention and set him back to work, shivering when clawed hands found his shoulders. Mephisto held off, not digging them in yet, but still urged Shiro to stay close, bucking lewdly against the priest’s hand. 

Mephisto, of course, knew _precisely _what he was doing. It wasn’t entirely an act, no, not at all – this was indeed thrilling and he was not hoping for this situation to fizzle out anytime soon, but at the same time he was keenly aware that Shiro shared his interest in desperation, plain and simple. 

A well timed and pathetic noise was irresistible to the priest, overriding any doubts with another wave of interest and desire. He was especially aware of the way Shiro would tense, greater urgency in his movements the more Mephisto allowed him to think he was ‘winning’ – humans always wanted knowledge. Wrecking up a lover better than anyone else counted in this category. Mixing the wish for knowledge with sex, though, made it even more potent, and an easy tool to use.

Regarding this, the demon opted to let himself relax for now. Enough years, enough long talks, he figured letting Shiro see this aspect of himself was hardly intimate in truth.

Shiro had moved again, letting more of his weight down on Mephisto, grinding against him and _fuck- _simple as it was, he’d almost forgotten how _nice _that felt. 

A mental shrug. It wasn’t like it would take much to take control again if Shiro got out of hand, but he’d drawn out a side of the priest that was new to him and figured this was an experience best thoroughly drowned in. 

Another bite to the neck, he snarled against it, barely holding back from digging his claws harder into Shiro’s broad shoulders, rolling his hips against his. His eyes flickered open again to meet Shiro’s, ruddy and hazed with want, shuddering breaths escaping his mouth. 

The priest cracked another smile, “When’d you get free?” 

Mephisto blinked, almost answering, but Shiro cut him off, “I expected that. You seem pretty into this – just imagine if anyone else got word of you acting like this,” 

“…imagine if anyone got word of _you_ acting like this, too- _shit-_” 

A low laugh from Shiro, “I still think you’re in the more dishonorable predicament here,” 

_Tch. Some human expectations are utterly foolish and mind-boggling. But nevertheless… _Mephisto’s thought was cut short by Shiro shifting back, slipping his pants open and slicking himself over with precum. He watched with marked interest.

Shiro settled back to his former position, stroking both their cocks together. Mephisto grit his teeth, letting out a soft hiss and letting his head fall back, long bangs cascading down the sides of his face. 

Shiro bent to lick at the burn marks that scored the demon’s pale skin. Mephisto let out another hiss and twitched slightly as his tongue brushed past.

“What, too much for you?” Shiro purred against the demon’s ear, continuing to stroke their cocks together, occasionally shifting his thumb upwards to slick them over with more precum. He sought to make Mephisto embarrass himself more, delighting in the way he shuddered and sighed beneath him. 

With a soft grunt, he rolled his hips against the demon again, bracing himself for leverage, blindly seeking more friction. Mephisto let out a shaky breath that ended in a half-snarl, grinding back against the priest, urging him on. 

It felt nice to let himself lose his composure, to let go and let himself melt into this. Shiro was undeniably irresistible, so precious thinking he was in charge with that pompous look plastered on his face, sweat beading on the unruly ends of his silver-white hair. 

He was gruff and graceful at once oddly enough, and more attentive than Mephisto had expected. His careful observations, minute changes in position, and fluid movement betrayed plenty of experience. 

A lecher priest was nothing new, but it was a trope that Mephisto found especially enticing. He let out a soft moan, a spark rushing through his body. Thrills like this made the trouble of staying in Assiah well worth it. 

Not much longer now. Shiro kept at it, increasing tempo slightly, earning a gasp from the demon who dropped his hands to claw at his yukata and the fabric of the couch to avoid wounding Shiro. As much as he wanted it, there was no time to give Shiro to recover again. 

Shiro felt his composure crack. The king looked a right mess before him, matching his movements near perfectly, sleek purple hair shining in the warm light that was cast in from the enormous windows, the way his voice cascaded through the air of the ornate room. 

The desperation and pleading on his face was almost excessively lewd, Mephisto so unabashedly drowning himself in the feeling. Shiro loved every precious second of watching the mighty king behave like little else than a common whore. 

A shuddering groan saw the demon reaching his climax, grinding roughly and desperately against Shiro, driving him on to his own orgasm. Shiro snarled, waves of pleasure running his brain to feeling as if he’d short circuited. 

The two paused as they were, breathing heavily, eyes locking again. Mephisto stared up at him, wide-eyed, green glowing in the fading light. Shiro had hardly noticed. When had he shut his lights off?

Even the fleeting hint of distraction was not going to be tolerated. 

“More.” Mephisto breathed, catching Shiro’s face between his hands and pulling him down into a kiss. It was well orchestrated, the demon knowing precisely how to drag Shiro in and keep him held at attention.

He bit at Shiro’s lip, sharp teeth just barely piercing skin. He sighed into it, not quite noticing the way he was mentally slipping and only barely snapping to attention enough to hold back from biting harder. Shiro shivered at the feeling, opting to fight back, knotting his hands in Mephisto’s hair and kissing him roughly in response, the two dropping unceremoniously off the side of the couch. 

Shiro stifled a laugh, a short startled bark as they tumbled to the floor. He bit and kissed along Mephisto’s neck again, grabbing his cock and gently stroking along its length. 

He noticed the feeling of a soft tail winding its way around his leg, long plume at the end glinting a near iridescent purple-green in the fiery rays the sunset cast into the room. Shiro carded his hands through Mephisto’s hair, glancing at him through hooded eyes and shivering at the thrilling sight – his composure was surely breaking. 

Mephisto growled into the kiss, greedily bucking against Shiro’s hand while he stroked the priest’s cock in turn. It took little time to have Mephisto growling low, cock twitching as he came again and cum spilling over Shiro’s hand and between his fingers. 

He kept working at Shiro, breathing rough against his ear and holding him possessively close. His heart pounded at the simple earthliness of the situation, pushing him to something distinctly primal and terribly Assiahan. 

Shiro grunted, scrabbling to pull at Mephisto’s hair, and he allowed it, adoring every second of watching Shiro behave so pitifully human. Knotting his fingers tighter into those purple locks he reached his climax. 

Almost reluctantly, Mephisto pulled himself away and slumped to the side, thoughtfully licking at his fingers while holding Shiro fixed in his gaze.

Shiro felt his jaw hang open, panting shallowly as he let his eyes range over the demon stretched across the floor. Mephisto propped himself up on one elbow, tail waving lazily. Shiro noticed his eyes had taken on an even more alien quality than normal, piercing through him more pointedly than ever and making him look almost as awfully dangerous as he truly was. 

In spite of that, Mephisto hummed contentedly at the taste, then snapped his fingers coyly. Shiro blinked, looking back to Mephisto. His tail was gone, features softened again, eyes still clearly inhuman but not so foreign, and any evidence of what had just transpired gone as if it never was. Shiro, meanwhile, was left unchanged. 

Mephisto giggled teasingly as he watched yet another painfully exasperated grimace color the priest’s face.

“You might want to get cleaned up, hmm?”


	12. Love-in-a-mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seemingly peaceful evening with Yuri and Rick is rudely interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love-in-a-mist can mean "You puzzle me"  
Its small petals appear to have little claws on them, and another common name for this plant is "devil in the bush" 
> 
> Head's up for some smut in this chapter
> 
> Update: Guys HELLO TheBeingofEverything has *delivered* with some lovely art for this chapter! https://thebeingofeverything.tumblr.com/post/190433519997/i-dont-always-draw-mephiro-but-when-i-do-its

_1992_

“Hello? Oh, good evening, sir!” 

Shiro tensed, watching Yuri on the phone. 

“Shiro? Yeah, he’s here. I’ll put him on. Hey Shiro, Sir Pheles is calling for you. Sounds big.” Yuri ushered him to come over and take the phone. He reluctantly obliged, curtly nodding to Yuri. Yuri returned to sitting, exchanging a look with Rick, who shrugged to her. 

“_Shiro?” _

“Yeah what’s up? Emergency mission?” 

“_No_-“ Shiro sighed at the words. He was _trying _to enjoy his evening, damnit, “_But I need to meet with you soon. Can you be here in a couple hours?_” 

Shiro mulled this over, chewing at his lip. What could it be for? It wasn’t unusual for Mephisto to be somewhat intrusive and, well, pretty demanding, but going so far as to call Yuri to get ahold of him was new. It sent a rush of questions racing through his head, “I…I guess? Can it wait till tomorrow, though?” 

Again, Yuri and Rick exchanged a look. Was he seriously talking to the director with that much familiarity? It sounded like he was negotiating an order. Both started giggling to themselves. _Classic Shiro. _

“Uuugh! Fine, I’ll try to make it tonight, but if I don’t, please don’t come sniffing around Yuri’s place. We’re trying to have a calm night, you know, after all the shit you’ve put us up to. Alright, alright! I said I’d _try_! God, you sound like a pissy wife. Yeah. Yeah. Well you can play it yourself! Jesus. Okay. Bye.” Shiro wanted to slam the phone back onto the receiver, but forced himself to do so calmly for the sake of it being Yuri’s. Looking suddenly exhausted, he sauntered back over, settling in next to Yuri again. She and Rick stared at him incredulously. 

“…what?” Shiro raised an eyebrow. 

Rick leaned forward, eyes wide as saucers, “Did you seriously?” 

“Huh?” 

His expression turned smug, “Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty friendly with Sir Pheles, talking to him like that. You sure he ain’t gonna hang you out to dry for being so contrary all the time?” 

“I can’t tell if you sounded more like bickering lovers or like you were a rebellious child.” Yuri snickered, blushing, “You’re a ridiculous guy, you know?” 

Shiro’s heart skipped at Yuri’s soft tone, noting the way long eyelashes grazed against her flushed cheeks as she blinked sweetly at him. _What would she think if she knew? She’d probably be appalled… _Again, he shoved the thought aside like an obstacle on a trail, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up, “And you have a knack for stating the obvious.” 

“Hey, maybe you have more of a knack for taming than you realize,” she joked, nudging him with her elbow.

Shiro felt his ears go hot, cigarette almost dropping out of his mouth, “What’s that even supposed to mean?!”

Yuri nearly doubled over laughing, finally collecting herself, “You’re so serious. Or, hey, maybe I finally started rubbing off on you,”

Shiro looked away, exhaling a plume of smoke, “Mh, yeah, right.”

Rick chuckled, “Yeah, Shiro’s too much of a hardass, anyway.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“No, no!” Yuri cut in, “He’s more like… like a really, really badly burnt marshmallow.”

“So, not for everyone?”

“Yeah, that, and still warm and nice under all that charred crust.”

Rick snorted, “I’m gonna disagree and say ‘gross’, instead.’”

“Rick, you don’t like burnt marshmallows?” Yuri inquired, “But it’s so fun to light ‘em on fire!”

Shiro, meanwhile, had buried his face in his arms on the table. A heated argument about optimal marshmallow roasting quickly broke out, and he hid his smile.

Having friends was nice, sometimes.

Another couple hours of relative peace went by, almost masking the tension that had started defining most days. Shiro glanced at the clock, remembering Mephisto’s demand. It was probably best to listen this time, he figured.

“I should probably be going,” Shiro cut in, getting to his feet with a stretch, “It’s been really nice tonight. I’ll update on whatever nonsense Sir Pheles has going on this time, heh,” 

Yuri smiled affectionately at him, “It was nice to see you, too. Stop by again, or why don’t we go out tomorrow night if you don’t have much going on?” 

“Aww, I’m not free tomorrow…” Rick sighed, resting his chin on his knees glumly.

Yuri patted him gruffly on the back, “You’ve got a family to worry about, Rick. Maybe you could come out with us next week?” 

Shiro nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice. We can talk about it more tomorrow, if you got a moment. Well, off to see drama queen extraordinaire, hopefully it’s not anything too stressful,” 

“Have a good night, Shiro! Be careful and don’t be out too late!” Rick crowed. 

“Yeah! Be careful, it’s chilly out tonight!” Yuri concurred as he offered a final wave and let the door clack shut behind him. 

Shiro started up another cigarette as he made his way down the narrow streets towards the imposing manor on the hill. 

Belial let him in as usual when he arrived, giving him a curt nod and greeting, “My master said it was a Toki sort of night… He said to tell you that although it sounded like a business call, you should meet him in the sitting room as usual.” 

“Gotcha. Thanks.” Shiro dipped his head to the demon and made his way down familiar hallways. Mephisto had already prepared everything, a glass of whisky popping in front of Shiro and almost causing him to reel back in surprise. 

“Glad you made it tonight,” Mephisto purred, eyeing the priest through thick lashes.

Shiro got to his usual seat with a grunt, taking a draught of the whisky, “If you just wanted to chat, we really could have waited till tomorrow. I was having _fun _tonight, you know.” 

Mephisto scoffed playfully at him, “You know I take great pleasure in upsetting you. I was so lonely tonight, anyway! I could have wished to die. I’ve had nobody but Belial to speak to all day, and all I get from him is ‘yes sir’, ‘no sir’, ‘of course, sir’. It gets tiring!” 

Shiro leveled a glower at him, “You ever consider that’s because you get bitchy and threatening if he does much else?” 

“Hey! We get on just fine, would you know? He’s just too good at his job sometimes. Fah! And he stinks at games. It’s no fun without a challenge if I’m doing something two player. And don’t get me started on how boring it is watching dramas with other demons… I like human ideas. You guys are great at coming up with fun theories!” 

“I’m not here to watch TV with you again, for fuck’s sake.” Shiro huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Mephisto giggled low in his throat, “Well, I would like to ask you what you think will be happening next.” 

“…what show this time?”

“Oh, no show. Well, I have plenty I could ask you about- but we’ll get to that in a moment. I mean here.” 

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Spit it out. Upcoming mission?” 

“I admit I can be dodgy, but not tonight. No mission. Not now.” 

Shiro pondered this briefly, “I don’t know? In the next few hours? I’ll probably get pissed and drink this whisky too fast like usual. You’ll start some inane banter, I’ll laugh till I almost puke over it, realize who I’m laughing with, and kind of want to boil myself. You’ll probably check me out a lot and make me feel like some piece of meat, I’ll hate myself for kind of digging it, and by 2 AM I’ll be sobbing about an existential crisis because I understand medicine and not physics and shit and you gave me a headache over it. Then I’ll go home cursing your existence. Same as usual?” 

Mephisto almost spat out his drink, melodic laughter bubbling up in his chest, “Oh, what a bullseye! Shiro, you really are a nice bump in the monotony here,” 

“I literally outlined the asinine monotony of every goddamn time we hang out like this.” 

“You learn something new every time, yes?” 

“…Well, sure?” 

“In some ways, so do I,” Mephisto mused, looking off towards one of the enormous windows, studying the fuzzy lights of the city that marred the horizon, “We’ve got some big things brewing.” 

“You say that a lot.” Shiro grumbled, crossing his arms.

“It’s near by your standards, now. I need to show you some things. Do you trust me?” 

Shiro shook his head, “Absolutely not. Why would I?” 

The demon chuckled, “I’m more honest with you than you give me credit for, but you aren’t unwise to hesitate. We spoke before of my brother.” 

“We have. I’ve heard a few colorful anecdotes about him, now.” 

“There’s plenty.” Mephisto stated flatly, unamused, “he’s growing more agitated. I fear the rift between us is increasing.” 

Shiro nodded, “Sounds pretty heavy.” 

“Mm…you could say that. Section 13 is becoming, well, wasteful,” he held his tongue, stilling the desire he had to ramble excitedly about their most recent… _discovery_, if that were the right term for it. No. The groundwork had to be laid first. He tilted his head to look at Shiro, catching his eyes. 

Shiro’s breath hitched, then slowed, feeling that familiar green burning into him, straight through every thought and desire he had, through every lie he tried to conceal himself in, “L-look. I don’t understand your stupid cosmic games, and I’m still pissed at the atrocities that have come from it. Can’t you just…like, tell him to fuck off? Can’t _you _fuck off?” 

Mephisto closed his eyes, exhaling sharply, “I’ve told you how many times now, I can’t do anything against him. It would be suicide, and you know the resounding effects that could have for you. And, for myself, I don’t fancy _fucking off _when Assiah is such an intriguing place,” his eyes snapped open again, “Now, I need to show you something. Things are getting urgent.” 

Shiro reluctantly followed him over to the window. The demon held a key in front of his nose, “You see all those lights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What do you think of them?” 

“Kinda nice till it sinks in that it’s all noise and bullshit.” 

Mephisto stepped forward, unlocking the balcony door and pulling it open, “Come along.” 

Shiro grumbled something under his breath, walking behind the taller man, only to gasp as he felt himself stumble and drop. His vision blurred to black for a fleeting second, and he found himself tumbling unceremoniously into tall grass. 

Standing up and dusting himself off, he looked out across an endless sea of grasses and flowers extending in every direction. Above, the sky loomed enormous enough to feel suffocating, looking like a massive velvet blanket studded with glinting stars. 

“And you see these lights. What of them?” 

Shiro inhaled. The air was sweet and soft. The stars overhead were comforting and sparked the imagination. The sky felt inviting and overwhelming all at once, “They’re beautiful. I don’t think I’ve seen the sky like this before,” 

Mephisto rounded on him, pulling him close. His expression remained oddly severe, “I thought you’d think so. We teeter on the edge of something great and dangerous. I need you to change your perspective.” 

The last word was sounded like an echo ricocheting down a canyon as he pulled Shiro backwards, both falling towards grass that never met them. Shiro screwed his eyes shut and clung to the thin body of the demon, and the pull of gravity on him felt like it could tear him apart. 

He wasn’t sure what was up or down anymore, but it felt like he had spun violently before abruptly stalling – he imagined it might be how a violent car crash felt. 

The form that was clutched in his arms suddenly disappeared, leaving a terrifying nothingness in his place – nothing to cling to. 

He blinked his eyes open, looking out at colorful dust clouds studded with stars. He stared wide-eyed at the nebulae, only to be wrenched back rapidly, watching everything distort in an instant as the weighty rip of gravity pulled at him and he cried out in fear, but the noise went nowhere.

Mephisto appeared before him again, taking his hands and guiding him to walk across a vast and endless void, down, down, to watch their steps trace patterns over far off aurora on the pole of some unfamiliar planet as if it were an electromagnetic walkway. 

“And what do you think of lights like those below, that wend their way across the skies of earth and countless worlds?” 

Shiro answered without hesitation, transfixed by the meandering glow, “It’s beautiful.” 

“They arise from a conflict, a collision of sorts. Many things you might deem ‘beautiful’ do. If there were not that chaos, there would be no such loveliness, hmm? There’s a push and pull, a nonstop ebb and flow to everything,” Mephisto murmured, spinning Shiro back round to face him. The green glow of the aurora below was copied in the absinthe glow of the demon’s eyes. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Well…” Mephisto twirled him as if in a waltz, spinning him out to the ends of his long arms. He saw Mephisto’s mouth move, but what met his ears was not a recognizable voice. Instead, it was incomprehensible hisses and whines reminiscent of radio interference. The sound faded into a deafening silence. Shiro felt a jolt and watched his own body somehow escape him. Mephisto was gone again. Fear tore through him like a hail of bullets. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! What did you _do!?_” Shiro demanded, but again felt his voice travel nowhere. Panic stirred his heart to a rapid beat that threatened to burst through his chest. 

Another pull and his vision blurred again. By the time his sense of orientation returned, he felt his senses dulling, leaving him only vaguely aware of frightening alien noises and looming shadows he couldn’t make heads nor tails of. 

Bit by bit, his senses were eroded and his awareness melted away. Fear became impossible. Everything became impossible. The last sensation he had was of indescribable agony and terror that morphed into unbearable want and left behind a still and silent void.

Any final scraps of understanding of what he or anything else was fell away like ashes. 

Suddenly, he was rushed back to himself, feeling as if he snapped into his body as he careened down onto the cool surface of Mephisto’s balcony, the demon falling over him with a dark and teasing jagged-toothed grin. 

Shiro repeated himself breathlessly. 

“What…did you _do_ to me?” 

Mephisto gazed intently back at him, now revealed tail flicking back and forth behind him with interest, “I showed you a few things, including Gehenna and as close an approximation I could muster of having your ego destroyed,”

“That was…something.” 

“And how did you feel?” the demon purred. 

“Scared. Absolutely fucking _miniscule_… I felt… really amazing and really, pitifully worthless at the same time?” Shiro’s work to catch his breath was undone, morphing back into nervous panting.

“Understanding the basic principle of the laws that govern me, my brothers, and my goals is something within your grasp. Are you beginning to see the picture, now? The role of hunger and strife, the way we Ba’al depend upon and define one another despite the conflicts we have?”

Shiro gasped for air. The way Mephisto looked at him was more intense than he ever remembered. He feared peering into the green, afraid it would rip him right back into the void. He scrambled mentally, trying to put the pieces together, letting each snippet that had been dropped over the years find its place.

“I am nothing without light. Light cannot move without defining me. And, as we are concepts, you are the universe expressing itself for a fleeting and pitiful moment – a tiny, narcissistic chemical machine programmed to consume and catalyze and do the bitter work of entropy even I cannot defy,”

Shiro remained struck dumb.

“And, lowly worm that you are, were forged by the ravenous hunger of the stars themselves more than by the insatiability of my kind. Know your place.” He snarled the last sentence, “And act like it.”

Shiro nodded nervously, eyes remaining snapped wide when Mephisto crushed his lips against his before hesitantly settling back on his haunches, exhaling, and getting to his feet.

Shiro propped himself up, blinking away the surprise. His heart still hammered in his chest, and watching Mephisto wander off with his long tail waving behind him only kept his attention rapt on the demon. The myriad thoughts running through his head became a ten-car pileup.

Strange as it was, Mephisto could almost share the same sentiment, the end of his tail swishing as he flicked it pensively, barely tasting at his drink before setting it aside again with an annoyed curl of his lip. Shiro wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him so clearly bothered and contemplated whether this was just another card in his deck of tricks and manipulation.

Finally, Shiro rose cautiously, moving slowly and carefully watching Mephisto as if he were a dangerous animal. He wasn’t sure whether speaking would incur his wrath, but decided the gamble was worth it.

“Mephisto-“

“Do you understand, now?” Mephisto spoke, low and even, turning to Shiro with grim expectation. Shiro tilted his head. Something in his tone betrayed that mentally, like Shiro, he was far away.

“I…I don’t know.” The words rode on shaking breaths.

A hint of an amused smile crossed the demon’s face. Shiro approached warily, jolting when he was pulled close. He braced to have his vision go black and to find himself careening madly through the void again, but it never came. Instead, those clawed hands released his forearm and snaked around his body, warm breath ruffling his hair, “It was very enjoyable to see you try. You’re so terribly insatiable in every sense,”

Shiro felt another wave of utter befuddlement catch him. Was any of this even real? His mind kicked to racing again, trying to figure out the catch, the trick that had to be hiding behind the guise of fumbling tenderness like this.

Mephisto continued, “We have that much in common.”

_Huh? _

“I can’t claim to love you, but I admit I’m thoroughly charmed.” Mephisto giggled.

Shiro wanted to wrench himself from the arms encircling him and demand elaboration, but something prevented him, stilling him against the demon’s wiry body.

“Mephisto- I, what- what are you on about this time?”

A nip to his ear, voice dripping amusement, “There you go again, asking questions like demands. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that much out, yet, different as we are.”

“No, seriously! I’m not letting you pull that and then act like nothing happened. What does that mean, and what the hell did you show me all of that for?” Shiro barked, backing up as Mephisto finally released him.

Mephisto regarded him curiously, this little human that stared daggers into him so courageously, “You looked exceptionally distraught. Can’t afford you going into shock on me, now.”

Shiro flexed his fingers.

“You’ll understand, soon. I can promise that. Keep up the good work.” he started to turn, but Shiro grabbed the sleeve of his yukata, balling it tightly in his fist. Suspicions came settling into place.

“What is Rinka?”

Mephisto sneered darkly at him, “More than we bargained for.”

“Tch,” Shiro shivered, remembering those fierce blue eyes. Yuri seemed so amicable with him, but Shiro took down notes with raised hackles, day in, day out. Of course this debacle had something to do with that. “So what about Yuri? Have you talked to her?”

“She knows what she needs to. She’s well-equipped.”

Shiro scrutinized Mephisto’s face, trying to look through him. Nothing. It seemed he meant what he said, for once. Still, he was uneasy.

Mephisto spoke again, “I just needed you to be ready, in case things get out of hand, and I needed you to start listening. Don’t waste your talents on a foolish mistake.”

Shiro didn’t pull his gaze away, nodding sternly, “Okay.”

“Now, my best exorcist would do well to lie down awhile. Your mind’s running too quick right now, you’ll fry it in no time.”

“I-“

“Overwork is poison, I already damn near put you into shock. Go lie down.”

Shiro grunted but obeyed. As unfortunate as it was to admit, Mephisto was right once in awhile, “I’m stealing your bed, then.”

“You’re always welcome to it.” A cheeky wink.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, sprawling out like a haggard ragdoll and pensively watching Mephisto, who’d now gotten a cup of tea and was continuing to stare out the window. It was odd he wasn’t trying to fill the void with something yet, he hadn’t pulled out any books or gone off to watch another inane program. He wasn’t even fidgeting with anything.

Instead, he stood still, a lone sentinel watching out over a glittering kingdom that, unbeknownst to most, suffocated under a foreboding fog.

“Mephisto,” Shiro couldn’t believe what he was about to say, “Come lay down, too.”

A moment’s silence. Shiro jolted in surprise when Mephisto was suddenly over him, baring his fangs in a daring grin.

The demon broke into laughter, “Ah, you should have seen your face just now! You’re right, though.” he blinked softly. Shiro was trying to catch his breath yet again, hands quaveringly finding their way to Mephisto’s back, hesitantly letting Mephisto slide out of his arms as he slumped lazily off to the side. He left his hand resting on the demon’s slim forearm, gently pressing his fingers around it. Honestly, having anything to hold onto right now was better than nothing.

The thoughts remained tumultuous. A million memories flickered between the incomprehensible experience he’d just had, and it wracked him to try to grab an image, a concept, anything to hold onto for more than a fleeting moment. The sheer immensity of the universe felt more crushing and awesome than ever, and as soon as he could breathe again, that hit of his own frailty in the vast machine he belonged to would steal it again, denying his lungs any peace. Mephisto watched him curiously, seemingly trying to pierce into his mind and share in the cacophony of thoughts he was wrestling with. Those damn green eyes met his again, locked him in, and-

_Fuck. _

Shiro felt hazy, like he had fallen into the stars themselves all over again. Though it was a struggle, he managed to drag himself away and turn over with a huff. No way could he think straight looking at _that. _He felt the brush of Mephisto’s breath against the back of his head as he let out a bemused chuff, but he made no move to touch Shiro. _What a curious man. _Admittedly, Shiro’s company had grown more enjoyable and interesting than he’d anticipated, for better or worse. At the moment, he wasn’t sure whether he liked the prospect he’d just well and truly mentally broken the fragile creature. Shiro’s breathing was still shallow, but it was slowing down noticeably – that had to be a good sign. The faint rhythm of his heart skittered quickly, would slow for a time, skip again, and slow in a noticeable pattern. He dismissed the prospect of finishing their drinks. That wouldn’t help Shiro any at the moment.

Shiro, meanwhile, bunched the fabric of the sheets into his fingers, trying to steady himself, trying to shake the heavy feeling of a _literal, whole-ass demon king _in a questionable mental state laying behind him. He inhaled as slowly and deeply as he could, holding it before exhaling, trying to relax and let himself process things naturally. Every agonizing memory would splice with something beautiful – the crackling of aurora, the furnace hearts of stars themselves, the eternal and undying truth of change. There was perfection, disorder, perfection again and a smothering sense that all things, from this moment to his life to even Mephisto was so very temporary and no choice existed that didn’t run them all down the same gutter.

The weighty epiphany that struck him was that time would tear everything apart, undefining itself in the process.

What a fate.

He noticed sweat beading on his brow, taking another shaky breath and feeling as if he was boiling. Shifting in annoyance, he sat up to tear his shirt off and dropped it to the floor before letting himself curl up again, still refusing to face Mephisto. He felt those predatory eyes boring into the back of his head like lasers that could cut his skull clean in half and pull it apart.

Mephisto’s gaze flickered over Shiro’s now exposed back, scanning the scars that marred the skin with interest. Hesitantly, he brought a hand up to trace over some of them – some from battle, perhaps some from times long ago in the labs, and some, unmistakably, from his own claws. The memory was still so fresh and he admired the marks he’d left behind. How much more was there to learn about Shiro? How honest had he been, and how much more could be laid bare? There were answers to be sought after from this prized curiosity of a being while carefully testing his resilience.

Shiro’s sentiments were much the same, a sense of resolve to drag out every snippet of knowledge he could from the king strengthened by the heaviness that weighed on him now. It had ground and clicked with effort, but damn, it clicked into place. Nothing, nothing had made him feel so wretched and beautiful.

The sensation of cool fingers tracing patterns across back made him quiver and arch into the touch.

Mephisto did have to admit to himself a weakness for those humans that so courageously endured in the face of such immense pain and colossal challenges. Even more charming were those rough, hardened humans who let their pain make them softer and sweeter.  
Little was more enchanting than a good tale of struggle and change.

Yes, nothing, nothing was so wretched and beautiful of all the little creatures of Assiah.

Shiro wasn’t sure if he was slipping into a fool’s mindset, but despite how warm he felt, he scooted slightly closer to Mephisto. Mephisto grinned softly, breathing into the crook of Shiro’s neck. He shivered into it, breath hitching when the tip of a claw grazed down one of the marks from their first encounter.

Was he being mocked again?

It didn’t matter.

While he still felt nothing short of nebulous, the panic was washed away as if by rain. He was so terribly, terribly alone in the universe and yet so terribly, terribly connected. To friends, no doubt long suffering. To every shift of energy that radiated out from him.  
And for now he was alone in his head, backed up against spacetime made manifest. That ought to be somewhat poetic, at the very least.

Shiro started when kisses were placed along his spine, a thin hand sliding down his side, settling momentarily on his hip before taking his hand and twining with his rough, thick fingers.

What had moved to let him exist? How little was the effort needed to snuff him from history?  
He got the sense that Mephisto wouldn’t stand for such a request, even as little more than a toddler demanding they keep a toy.  
And, well, regardless, weren’t there more things to discover?

Mephisto, here, vulnerable, felt like a conquest even if it was merely a façade.  
Yet there was more to be taken in every sense. Shiro wanted that terribly. A thrill shivered through his nerves.

“Now that’s mighty interesting.”

The demon’s lilting voice pulled him from his reverie with a small jolt, “Huh?!”

“The way you smell right now. I didn’t expect to be piquing your interest like that at a time like this.” Mephisto purred, squeezing Shiro’s hand.

Shiro turned to look at him, blushing and perplexed. Whether he’d been baited into it, it felt like a gunshot went off in his head when their eyes met.  
  
It was always like this, wasn’t it?  
Still, something about it was so much more jarring this time. Now was no time to suppress anything. Mustering all the grit he had, Shiro shoved Mephisto over, pinning his hand down but keeping their fingers laced as he straddled him with a cocky grin.

“I’ll say it again – nothing gets past you, does it?”

Mephisto mirrored his expression, “Nothing.” At that, he pulled Shiro down and kissed him roughly. Shiro froze, but relaxed into it and returned the gesture ardently, earning another of those soft laughs from Mephisto.

He’d come to be fond of that sound lately, much as he hated to admit it. So often his typically mocking laughter made his stomach drop, but there was one that was gentle and connotated moments of genuine friendliness, whatever that meant from a demon king.

Shiro was getting a bit carried away, weight pinning Mephisto still. It was clear, too, by his erratic way of going about this that his head was still far too fuzzy from earlier. It just wouldn’t do, and a reasonable way to ground him was to get his full and undivided attention again.

“He-hey! Again?!” Shiro squeaked, apprehension clear as day as he found himself weightlessly pulled upwards. Mephisto eyed him keenly, sliding off the side of the bed and snatching Shiro by the legs to pull him down, effortlessly tugging his pants off as he did so. Shiro shivered when his hands found his hips, again, the tips of Mephisto’s claws just barely pricking him. 

“Shh..” Mephisto held a finger to his lips, amused – he could practically hear the gears spinning in Shiro’s head. Without hesitation, he teasingly drew a hand down Shiro’s length, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before setting to work. Shiro exhaled heavily as warmth enveloped him, eyes fluttering. Centuries of experience had not let Mephisto down in the slightest, that much was fair to say. Mephisto slowed his breathing, focusing intently on Shiro’s reactions, finding what he responded to the most strongly. Rolling his tongue over his head seemed exceptionally thrilling to him and he made a point to drag Shiro’s resolve out until it shattered. A languid lick would stop short, or barely graze him before he’d pull away and take him again. As soon as Shiro resigned himself, Mephisto would pull back, lap slowly over his head, and devour him to get him to shiver in pleasure again. He glanced up to him slyly, pleased as ever at the way Shiro seemed to get stuck staring slack-jawed into his eyes.

And sure, he’d usually describe Mephisto as something of a dapper-ish drowned rat, but Shiro found it always increasingly impossible to look away from him. Those predatory and inhuman eyes had burned an impossible green and with one glance all his lessons and every warning meant nothing. The way his hair fell across his face, each strand delicate and glinting, the almost sweet way he sighed into the act were all captivating.

Though he was a deceptive creature, he was so honest in these situations. For a demon, there was no pretense, no battle of the conscience to contend with – just a flat understanding of what was desired at the moment and the gall to chase it.  
For the time being, it seemed to Shiro that he was wanted.

It hit Shiro that as many times as he hid from himself, in other ways he was much the same. What a curious thing.

Further thought was cut short. Mephisto’s last motion spurred him so close to the edge it was almost dizzying. And, bastard he was, Mephisto pulled away, a string of saliva and precum glinting from his tongue to the head of Shiro’s cock.

“You taste so good.”

_Oh, fuck- _

Shiro could have felt his heart stop.

Now. Now. He needed it now_. _

“Come here.”

Mephisto cracked a crooked grin and obliged, letting Shiro pull him close and tug his yukata open to plant hungry kisses from his neck down over his chest and stomach. Mephisto stretched out, allowing him more access, letting himself sink into the feeling. A teasing hand grazed his cock and he rolled his hips into the touch, requesting more. Shiro caught him in a heated kiss that was reciprocated gladly, sighing as Shiro’s tongue probed for access.

Shiro had shifted forward, grinding lightly against him. The way Shiro moved was so languid it surprised him. Every time something like this happened, he realized over again he’d been pleasantly incorrect in assuming Shiro to be truly rough and unpolished. Roving hands dragged down Mephisto’s pale thigh, the demon tensing at the contact.

“Found a weak spot, huh?” Shiro murmured against Mephisto’s ear.

He tensed again, “Maybe, but I’ll let you judge that. I already know all yours,” at that, he nipped at the crook of Shiro’s neck again, laughing gently when Shiro slumped helplessly against him. With a daring grin, Shiro sat back, snatching Mephisto by the legs and yanking him closer, nuzzling mockingly against his calf for a fleeting second before dropping it. Mephisto knit his eyebrows in frustration, clenching his jaw.

“Tch, you can’t go off on me about honesty and pull this,” Shiro taunted.

“Sure I can,” A daring look crossed his face as he ran his hands down Shiro’s sides again to grip into his hips.

Shiro steeled himself, “Yeah, well, you liked having holy water poured on you,”

“And you thoroughly love begging for me~”

“Oh shut up-“

Mephisto urged Shiro to scoot forward over him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Shiro inhaled sharply as Mephisto’s hand collided with his ass.

“And you like that.” The demon quipped matter-of-factly.

“You hit like a bitch.”

“Do I?” An eyebrow went up in interest.  
  
“Wait wait wai- _Fuck!_” Shiro’s eyes snapped wide at the impact, shuddering breath catching in his chest.

Mephisto tilted his head, “Still pathetic to you?”

Without thinking, Shiro nodded dumbly, hissing through his teeth at the next strike, which was even harder this time. Mephisto licked across his fangs, drinking in the sight of Shiro on top of him, pleasantly shocked and dripping helplessly. Another strike. The abject awe Shiro wore was as hysterical as it was enticing, and Mephisto found himself breaking into an uproarious guffaw. Shiro stayed frozen a moment, failing to stifle his own amusement, almost buckling into Mephisto’s chest and shaking with laughter. However, it didn’t take long for Shiro’s competitive streak to kick in again, and with a grunt he shoved Mephisto back down and leveled a challenging look into those green eyes.

“Alright. You got me again.”

“And how do you intend to seek revenge?” Mephisto inquired lazily, pulling Shiro’s hand forward to suck at his fingers. Shiro felt his heartbeat quicken, lip curling in a playful growl. With hardly a moment’s hesitation, he pulled his hand away, catching Mephisto in another rough kiss and groping at his ass. Mephisto snickered into it, bracing against Shiro as his fingers shifted to tease against him. Mephisto bucked gently to urge Shiro to continue, curling his toes at the feeling of his fingers sinking into him. Just when it seemed things would continue, Shiro stopped. A disgruntled growl rumbled at the back of Mephisto’s throat, thumping his tail as Shiro slid off to the side, cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Who’s complaining about going too slow now?” Shiro snorted.

Mephisto opted to not dignify him with an answer, letting his head fall into the pillow with an annoyed sigh. Hadn’t they been through enough stress? _Sheesh, humans_.

A moment passed with them simply regarding each other, half passively. Shiro wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation, but at least he felt somewhat calmer and that much was welcome. He half wished he could sleep, but with as wired up as he remained, it would surely be an impossibility.

Besides, there were some new things he was drawing out of this demon tonight, and opportunities had to be taken when they presented themselves.

He blinked, feeling Mephisto trace his hand down his forearm while they continued to study each other intently. No, a demon couldn’t truly care. But, in increments, there had been an agonizingly slow dance between both of them over the years, a careful search for the threads that connected them and a series of fumbling attempts to overcome the inherent barrier of language and understanding that stood like a gaping chasm between them.

Through sheer curiosity and hubris, Shiro wanted to dive into it. A long exhale was mirrored between them, and another paltry attempt to close that distance was made in a small kiss. Another moment of regard, another small kiss. Simultaneously, they found themselves reaching to hold the other there, a plead to keep on between quivering breaths and reverent touches.

For Mephisto, Shiro was simply too much of a human, and as such was painfully interesting beyond his usefulness. Shiro buckled to the look Mephisto gave him, kissing him roughly. Mephisto smiled into it and met him ravenously, gladly accepting when Shiro pressed for access with his tongue. He inched closer to the warmth of this human, enjoying the feeling of hands roving over his skin again. He decided he liked this side of Shiro – the utter ardor with which he acted was enchanting as ever, and he fully intended to draw out all the long-denied wishes of this petulant priest.

In truth, Shiro was surprised. He wasn’t sure quite where his head was, but the pounding in his chest had quelled and time seemed to warp and slow around them. Despite the chaos, despite the crushing weight tonight had brought, this moment seemed bizarrely still. He wasn’t comforted in the least, not with a beast of this caliber less than inches from him testing and exploring him as much in analytical curiosity as in unabashed lust. Still, Shiro was curious, too.

Mephisto’s hand slipped down to tease at Shiro’s cock. Shiro inhaled deeply, again hit with that strangely inviting scent. He pulled the demon closer, drawing his hand down his spine to trace the curve of his slight form.

“Nnnh..” Mephisto had shivered just slightly, still slowly working at Shiro. Interested, Shiro stroked up his back, earning another sigh as Mephisto arched into the touch and practically nuzzled against the priest, “I like that.”

Shiro chuffed, face hot at the sound of his low voice against his ear, “Really? Your back is that sensitive?”

Mephisto nodded once, “Mmhmm. I like a lot of things, though.” With a daring flash of sharp teeth, he pushed Shiro over and rolled on top of him, purring at the way Shiro’s eyes snapped wide from the sudden shift.

“Scared?”

Shiro shook his head, fingers ghosting over the bunched fabric of Mephisto’s yukata sleeves. The demon had leaned down to kiss at the crook of his neck again, letting his weight down on Shiro and gripping possessively at one of his wrists.

For all Shiro’s reservations, a line had been crossed today. Steeling his resolve, he decided to run with it and dash far, far, far beyond that line, urging Mephisto to meet his eyes and crushing him into a kiss with a hunger he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before. His heart was hammering again.

Mephisto, now, was all for it. The rush of letting a petty _human _in so near was now heightened by Shiro’s scent, the feel of his skin, the half snarl in the breath he took before catching him in that kiss that carried the faintest hint of long forgotten whisky and a little too much tobacco. He returned the gesture greedily, pulling Shiro tight against him and snaking his tail around Shiro’s leg as he let himself be thrown off and pinned, grunting at the weight of the heavier man on him. He’d figured Shiro’s rough mannerisms were just graceless, overly human and instinct driven and perhaps something to refine, but for now it was a welcome change of pace. Shiro was still far more calculated in his movement than he’d realized. His earlier teasing had been at least a bit misplaced.

Shiro fumbled a bit, trying to shift Mephisto to grope at him as he kissed his neck, buckling when Mephisto gently sunk two fingers into him. The demon waited, watching carefully and moving slowly.

“Gh- _fuck-_“ Shiro grunted. Mephisto purred lightly, pressing his chin into Shiro’s shoulder with a whispered count and snap with his free hand.

Shiro murmured low against his ear, trying to hide the daring smirk that tried to pull at his face, “_Samael_,”

Mephisto perked up, tail bristling in pleasure, “Hm?”

“Let me lead tonight.”

He blinked as Mephisto pressed the now-present bottle of lube into Shiro’s hand with a playful nip to his ear, “Show me what you got, then, kleine Shiro.” He ran his hands over Shiro’s shoulders and down his back to settle on his hips, “I can handle it. It’s what I was hoping for, anyway,”

Shiro didn’t need to hear that twice, diving back in to kiss up along Mephisto’s jawline as he stroked himself, slicking his cock and teasing at the demon. Mephisto bit at his lip tauntingly, grinding against Shiro to urge him to stop hesitating. Pressing his forehead to Shiro’s, he locked him in that piercing gaze and growled low in his chest, “Take me. Now.”

Shiro obliged, roughly grabbing Mephisto by the hips to jerk him closer before pressing into him slowly, carefully studying his face and watching for any hint of discomfort. None came, only a stuttering breath and a soft moan with another pleased bristle running down his iridescent tail.

“Give yourself to me, Samael.” Shiro murmured, voice rough as he pressed deeper.

His name again. Mephisto felt his legs shake at the feeling and the sound of Shiro’s voice. For as much shock and devastation Shiro had been through, it was pleasant to see him in a more confident position for once, letting him run with what he knew best.

It surely seemed he did know best.

Every guttering pang of bliss was multiplied by that rugged elegance Shiro had, as if every roll of his hips was calculated. Mephisto felt himself being studied scrupulously, Shiro taking care to note even the minutest reactions Mephisto gave.

He wasn’t sure if this was simply experience and attentiveness showing through, or whether Shiro was watching him like a general developing a battle strategy against a stubborn, crafty foe. Shiro relaxed suddenly, letting his body follow his mind as hands glided down Mephisto’s slim arms to pin him by the wrists and trace kisses up his jawline and over an ear that seemed somewhat longer than usual. Dark claws glinted in the half light, quivering hands nearly faltering and digging into pale skin and sharp teeth grit hard against the pleasure.

“Samael?”

Mephisto blinked, hazy attention only sinking at the sound of his name. He shivered at the feeling of Shiro’s warm breath coasting past his ear, ruffling his hair, “Hmm?”

“Is it good?”

“Mmhmm…”

Shiro needed to break him more. He sunk himself to the hilt with a ragged grunt, Mephisto’s breath caught in his throat. Shiro moved carefully, shifting to run his hands down his legs and grab him by the hips again. Mephisto’s tail arced off to the side in a fluid motion, Shiro darting a hand out to grab it curiously and draw down it, finding it especially soft. That pulled an unstifled moan from the demon that made it all the more difficult for Shiro to maintain his own composure. Game on, then.

“This is sensitive to you, too?” Shiro tilted his head with a cocky grin, stroking down his tail again.

“V-ver—hch! Very,”

It seemed the words came with a surprising effort. Seeing how much he’d gotten Mephisto to relax set him at least somewhat at ease. He refocused on his goal. He eased himself into a pace, adjusting to Mephisto’s reactions and biting his lip at the sting of long claws that now held fast to his legs and just barely avoided breaking skin, soft gasps slipping between sharp fangs. He knew Mephisto had to be louder than that, it was obvious he was trying to hold back. With a grunt, he threw more force into his next thrust, shuddering when Mephisto rolled his hips up to meet him with a lewd whine.

Shiro exhaled, an accidentally especially forceful thrust drawing a stuttering snarl from the demon. Curious, he repeated it, earning another desperate cry.

“What, you want it harder?” he taunted.

Mephisto hissed, letting his hands fall to his sides to scrabble at the sheets, “Y-yeah,”

Shiro hesitated briefly, stroking down that iridescent tail in a long motion before obliging. Whatever ensuing inhuman half-snarl, half-moan that got him was perhaps the best thing he’d heard in awhile. He felt himself getting close. Mephisto had his head arched back, bright green eyes hazed over in pleasure. Shiro sighed roughly, the feeling of sinking into the demon and the lewd cries each movement drew out nearly overwhelming. His eyes fluttered.

“Samael,” It came as a ragged snarl.

That did it in for Mephisto. “Again, Shiro.” A compelling demand.

“_Samael._”

Shiro felt him tense jerkily, practically writhing beneath him as he cried out with his release. A strange sense overtook Shiro and his heart dropped as he tried to focus his eyes on what now greeted him, but could not.

“S..Samael, I-“

Mephisto was unresponsive, a shockwave running up his body as he panted heavily. His eyes were rolled back, tail now wound tightly around Shiro’s leg as if holding on for dear life. His teeth were jagged, terrifyingly sharp, and at least twice as long as normal. Those claws had torn deep gouges through the sheets. Between them, hovering over Mephisto’s heaving chest was something Shiro found troubling and utterly incomprehensible to behold. He hesitated, finally venturing a nervous inquiry.

“Is that your heart?”

Mephisto was wracked with another shudder, long tongue lolling from his mouth. Barely perceptible patterns seemed to coil around it. A glow pulsed in swirling patterns that wound around fearsome and heavy looking horns. Huffing, Shiro stared utterly baffled and perplexed. He wasn’t hallucinating, apparently. He cocked his head. Something cold coiled in his chest, and cautiously, but still against his better judgement, he found himself reaching to touch this new and befuddling object. Mephisto’s hand immediately shot out and snatched him by the wrist, tightening around it painfully.

“Don’t.” his voice was heavy, a distinctly inhuman growl in multiple tones layered upon one another. His lip curled in a menacing snarl, tail finally relaxing away from Shiro’s leg and bristling sharply, “Look away.”

“Don’t look away, or look away? I don’t understan-“

Mephisto snapped at him with another rumbling growl. Shiro felt ice shoot through his veins. He knew better than to argue that and averted his eyes, shifting to begin moving away to whatever a safe distance might be. Before he managed to slip off the edge of the bed, he felt himself locked into place, as if gravity bent and twisted to hold him fast.

His chest tightened nervously, but he quickly forced the fear away, knowing now more than ever it was best to thoroughly steady and brace his mind. “Alright, alright. I won’t leave. Just…tell me when I can look again.”

Shiro wasn’t sure whether seconds, minutes, or hours had passed, tightening his fingers into the sheets and waiting pensively. All thoughts that tried to clamor to the surface felt like little more than uncomfortable static. He wished he’d brought his gun and almost wanted to slam his head into the wall for being so careless and letting his guard down so much. 

“Shiro,”

Shiro practically snapped his neck whipping around to look at Mephisto. No heart, no horns, everything back to normal and in order save for severely mussed hair, an errant drop of blood he wiped away from his nose and one that just barely pricked at the corner of his eye.

“What was that all about!?”

Mephisto slackened, head slumping slightly as he grinned softly, “It takes a lot for a properly refined demon to be so open. Consider it a sign you’re relaxing to me, I allowed it to happen.”

Shiro scrutinized him, still incredulous, “Alright?”

Mephisto sniffed, dabbing at another trail of blood that started from his nose, “You won’t even gasp and say ‘Wow, what an honor!’?”

Shiro stared daggers into him, “No. My eyes hurt and my head hurts all over again, and I guess it was sort of interesting. But I just think I fucked you stupid,”

“Sure. But I relaxed enough to allow it.”

“Cool, I’ll take it.” Shiro chuffed haughtily but was still visibly shaken.

The demon tutted quietly, “Oh, dear.”

“What?”

“I go through all that trouble to settle you down and I fear I nearly shocked you all over again. You handled it well, though.” He turned to the side to cough harshly, “You can go use my bath if you want. You liked it last time, didn’t you?”

Shiro shrugged, now getting a bit uncomfortable with the sweat that had started cooling and drying on his skin, “Yeah, that’d be nice I think. Are…you alright?”

His question fell on deaf ears. Mephisto snapped his fingers, “It’s running for you. Go ahead.”

Reluctantly, Shiro got to his feet. His knees quavered and he nearly crumpled under his own weight, a playful swat on the ass from Mephisto almost sending him careening. He barely managed to catch himself on the bed and shot a sharp look to the demon.

Before he reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder again, “Hey, quick question?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I scream in there?”

Mephisto shrugged, “Depends how strong your lungs are, I guess.”

He nodded and slipped out, ignoring the sound of another discordant cough.

Shiro made his way down the short section of the hallway, alert for any sign of Belial or anything else unexpected. Being caught like this would be less than ideal, to say the least. He breathed a sigh of relief as he shut the door behind him. The bath was maybe halfway full, but he wasn’t intending to wait any longer and with still trembling knees managed to clamber in. Once settled, he drew a deep breath and unleashed the loudest scream he could muster, carrying on the racket until his lungs ached and burned. At that, he slackened, drew down a few heaving breaths, and slumped into the water, just barely keeping his nose above the surface. His heart was racing again and his body felt light and entirely off-kilter. He alternated at breakneck speed between feeling like he could slip from his physical form at any moment and being almost agonizingly aware of every inch of his body and how it felt.

For now, he supposed feeling less clammy was nice, blowing bubbles under the surface.

He raised his head and drew the deepest breath he could manage, wondering if he could warp time in his mind the way Mephisto could warp time around him. It would be more than welcome right now.

Images flashed through his thoughts like a confusing blur of traffic. The fumbling interactions between Yuri and Rinka he watched as an impassive observer. That terrifying and sharp look to those eyes that swirled like galaxies.

What was he?

Mephisto seemed worked up. Just a little bit, sure, but it was noticeable to him. Shiro mulled over the feeling of gravity shifting, of being too little and too much and too little again and of time bending and warping with every ebb and flow of motion like some baffling dance not meant to be experienced by humans.

This world was full of so many beautiful and terrible things. Maybe that’s why Mephisto stayed so curious and energetic.

Worse than Rinka’s eyes were Mephisto’s, made sharper with experience and able to carefully slice apart the mind like the finest scalpel.

A shudder wracked him. He was sure Rinka was capable of developing that look and he hoped against hope he’d never see it, research be damned.

He let out a trembling exhale that felt like a dying fire. He questioned how much Mephisto knew – clearly more than he let on, but that was practically a universal constant at this point. Shiro sunk into the feeling of the warm water against his skin, again hit with a wish to sleep that seemed to be mockingly situated just out of reach.

A consideration flickered through his mind of every pretty face he’d grinned sweetly at, the warmth that would always, inevitably, fade from his bed like the heat from a wolf’s kill site. Names and bodies were just tickmarks and lessons and jobs well done, a never-ending stream of horribly fleeting respite. He sighed, hoping they had been left feeling like they woke from a hazy dream. He surely felt that way right now, but in a sickly way like facing a morning with a bitter hangover after a chaotic night that left only flashes and remnants behind. He hoped he hadn’t left anyone like that, but he wasn’t sure it was possible to, anyway.

There was the way Mephisto’s body felt pressed against his, slim and still clearly carrying unfathomable power. That feeling and all the chaos that came with it felt like it had been branded onto him. 

Regardless, he was another tickmark, another lesson, another job well done, just the most confusing one he’d experienced. There was that clear sense there were lessons hidden in every interaction, from casual conversation to finding himself uncomfortably close to the demon. And for what? He grit his teeth.

What was coming? 

Again, he considered that dangerous look Rinka had to him, something unpredictable and chaotic lurking just beneath the surface. His seeming clumsiness surely wouldn’t last forever, would it?

He found himself instinctually fumbling around for a cigarette, groaning when none were present.

He worried for Yuri and something, that unacknowledged something, twanged through his chest again. It was something akin to anxiety to him, or at least it towed anxiety along with it like a heavy but fast-moving cart.

Where was Jenny? Rick had gone off about her again recently.

He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of the back of her head in the hall at work last week, but it was probably his imagination. His heart dropped with a bitter realization.

On second thought, he probably hadn’t imagined that.

How beautiful and how terrible all things were.

His thoughts were interrupted. The door swung open and Shiro instinctively tensed, ducking down and staring grimly as Mephisto came in. Without a word, he’d stepped up and dropped into the water across from Shiro, stretching his long arms and relaxing against the edge.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Shiro paused, giving Mephisto an insulted look, “You could have given me some warning before prancing in here.”

“I did. I said I’d be joining you.” Mephisto lied.

“Right. Just, nevermind it. I’m fi-“ he noticed Mephisto holding him sternly in his gaze and caved, “I’m thinking about a lot of things right now, and I feel strange.”

Mephisto seemed pleased with this, “Thank you for being straightforward. I figured as much…” he exhaled softly, “Is the fog clearing?”

“What?”

“In your head.”

Shiro considered this for a moment, “Maybe. For every bit that clears, more rushes in.”

Mephisto nodded in acknowledgement, “Mmm… just let it flow.”

One of those pensive silences settled in between them.

Shiro shifted his weight, “What are you preparing me for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mephisto snorted, “You asked to be Paladin. If you want that to happen someday, you need to be especially prepared for any kind of challenge. Your assignment in Section 13 isn’t a cake walk either, even if it seems dull.”

Shiro accepted this for the time being, not wanting to open another Pandora’s box trying to find the missing pieces of half-truths, “Fair enough.” An icy look came over him, “I’ll take it for now.” 

Mephisto observed him carefully. It was clear Shiro was still tense, but anyone who didn’t know him well might not quite notice. Shiro had settled back, shutting his eyes with another measured breath. He flicked them open again, remaining guarded as he studied the demon and set his jaw.

“So…your heart, huh?” he finally ventured.

Mephisto nodded, “Indeed.”

“Not many have seen that, have they?”

“Correct.”

He felt a twinge of anger, “You go on and on to me about honesty and being straightforward with myself, with everyone else, and yet you hide more than anyone. I get that’s a weak point, but you constantly plant misleading ideas and information. I don’t think you’ve plainly stated your intentions to me more than maybe twice in your life, and now you spring all this on me. What gives?” 

“I’m a demon.” he smirked, “You have to worry about our lot. I don’t, well, not as much, and not for the same reasons, so I only take rational steps to protect myself and my interests. I hide less than you seem to think. And being honest doesn’t necessarily mean wearing your heart on your sleeve, so to speak. Frankly, you should do less of that. Right there is the downfall in trying so hard to deny yourself and hide your own thoughts and intentions, you just broadcast them to everyone but yourself if they pay attention.”

Another silence permeated the room as he mulled this over carefully, “And demons pay attention. I know.”

Mephisto nodded approvingly, “You’re still more resilient than most, but a hazard is a hazard.” he murmured, “You kept your wits about you well earlier. I was flattered and impressed.”

“Guess I can file that away as a once in a lifetime experience, or maybe I could note down ‘fucked a demon king’s heart out’ as a milestone, huh? Is that worthy of an exorcist’s resume?” Shiro forced a snide chuckle.

Mephisto, for once, seemed less amused by this and glanced at him dangerously.

Shiro refused to backpedal, “Hey, I did, though! Just admit it.”

“Did I ever attempt to deny it?”

Shiro stared at him.

“I like you, Shiro.”

“Huh?! Oh, don’t start that with me-“

Mephisto raised a hand to silence him, “You’re getting nonsense in your head. Clean out your ears. I’m a demon. I like you. It’s not nuanced the way it is for humans. It’s a lot more superficial than, say, how you think of Yuri.”

Shiro froze.

Mephisto cracked a cheeky grin at him, “Like I said, you really do wear your heart on your sleeve to anyone who pays attention. That’s another thing you wouldn’t admit unless you were on your deathbed, and even then, probably not. Am I incorrect?”

“It really, really pisses me off when you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer.”

“You just did.”

Shiro grunted, “Well, if you like me, you do a piss-poor job of showing it.”

“It’s not like with humans, do I need to keep setting that straight? Also, that could be a very insightful analysis of yourself.” Mephisto snickered, slicking water through his hair.

Shiro ground his teeth in annoyance, “Can you go two seconds without striking a nerve?”

Mephisto grinned cheerily, “Only if you can go two seconds without having a nerve struck.”

“Even when we try to have a serious conversation, you’re insufferably annoying,” Shiro mumbled, stretching his legs under the water.

“You’re exceptionally easy to annoy,” he paused, eyes glinting, “It’s been a long evening for you. You didn’t even finish, did you?”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, “Nope, you kind of interrupted that by almost giving me a heart attack.”

“Well, I’m still a gentleman.” He’d scooted closer now, running a hand up Shiro’s thigh and piercingly meeting his gaze, “Name what you want.”

Shiro blinked at him, half surprised, “Now? Seriously?” he sighed, gingerly prying Mephisto’s hand away, “I’m not feeling it right now, don’t worry about it.”

Mephisto tilted his head, mildly disappointed, “Hmm?”

“Just forget it.”

The demon relaxed again, “Very well.”

Shiro exhaled roughly, “I’d rather quit dodging problems. So,” he turned to Mephisto coldly, “Tell me about Rinka. You know what he is, I’m sure of it. And you’re scared of him.”

Mephisto blinked incredulously, leaning back with a hearty guffaw.

Shiro yanked him by the hair, “I’m not fucking around. Tell me.”

Mephisto collected himself and hissed, “Then don’t tear my damn scalp off. You want to know about Rinka?”

Shiro nodded gravely.

“Then consult your notes. Why are you asking me when you’re the one on the observation team? I have my hands full with other things, why else would I have hired all you lot to handle it? He’s high level and we have a lot to learn, that’s all I know!”

Shiro tensed, growing furious, “Are you serious right now? Then what’s going on? You said Lucifer was getting more unstable, so is that what this is about? Answer me.”

Mephisto’s eyes glowed with something bestial and cold, “Mind yourself, Shiro.”

“You’re testing me.”

“Is that news? I’m fulfilling our deal.”

Shiro swore under his breath.

“Everyone always has a lot to learn. I already said, you are one of our branch’s best, but it never hurts to keep your wits about you and continue to improve.” He remained stern and unwelcoming, “Situations can turn on a dime.”

“I know.”

“Prudent man.”

Shiro grumbled something unintelligible. Dealing with Mephisto felt like yelling at an unfeeling, impenetrable wall and he wished he had a sledgehammer.

Mephisto softened slightly, “Get washed up and get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Shiro growled begrudgingly.

“If you need to, I’ll even let you stay the night.”

He shook his head, “No. I’d rather not. The guys would ask questions, they still think I’m at Yuri’s, anyway.”

“Inviting a little scandal tonight, are you?”

“S’your fault.”


	13. Quaking Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mephisto requests Yuri and Shiro's report after Satan's escape from Section 13.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quaking grass includes species in the genus Briza, some of which are cultivated for ornamental use. It can symbolize agitation.

Yuri chewed nervously at her lip and fiddled with the edges of her pockets, following Shiro as he pushed the large door open.

Mephisto straightened up behind his desk as they entered, “Good afternoon, you two. Please, please have a seat,” he relaxed back again, clicking his pen absentmindedly as they settled in.

“Good afternoon, Sir.” Yuri greeted, “It’s-“

“Woulda been faster if you just came to us,” Shiro cut in with a grumble, crossing a leg to rest his ankle over his knee.

Mephisto’s eyebrow twitched in irritation, “I figured it would be easier like this, since I am already trying to deal with the information Dr. Eminescu provided earlier. I want your reports as well, though, since you were closer at the time of the incident.”

Yuri swallowed hard, “Right. Yesterday, I brought Shiro in to visit with Rinka. He’d been more restless lately, so I figured meeting more people would be good enrichment for him and might help him behaviorally, too.”

Mephisto nodded, scribbling down a few notes, “Yes. You’ve reported before that he’s…well, not very controlled, emotionally speaking, and that he’s prone to lashing out.”

“Exactly.”

The demon guffawed, slapping his desk, “Well, Egin, you picked the absolute worst human to be an example of self control and good behavior! Ahahaha, that’s absolutely hilarious!”

Shiro shot him a look. Yuri shot Shiro a look in turn, prompting him to hold his tongue.

Making a show of wiping a tear from his eye, Mephisto settled down, “My apologies. Please continue.”

“He was apprehensive around Shiro from the start, but I wasn’t entirely surprised by that. He gets jealous and nervous easily, like I’ve mentioned before. Anyway, Shiro beat him in a game and he got really upset by that, but it seemed that after Shiro left for the day that he mostly calmed down. He was acting a bit quieter and more tense than normal, but that was all.” Yuri sighed, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, “When we came in this morning, it looked like all hell had broken loose,” she offered a weak smile.

Mephisto smirked, “Indeed. Dr. Eminescu filled me in on the situation from last night and this morning’s little brouhaha. You said Rinka identified himself, yes?”

“Yes, as Satan.”

Shiro nodded in agreement, “Yuri tried to convince him to release the hostage he had. He torched the guy after feigning like he was going to let him go. Why don’t we find him? I say we organize a search and take him out, he’s too dangerous.”

“You have more to fill me in on first,” Mephisto murmured, clicking his pen a few times, “But I’ll explain why you just answered your own question once you finish.”

Yuri started up again, “Mhm… well, like I said, he identified himself as Satan. I tried to reason with him and calm him down, but he just got more belligerent and eventually attacked. Luckily, Shiro had been hiding and he protected me, but right after that Ri-, uh.. errr, Satan fled. He tore apart everything in his path on his way out. We were all totally blindsided.”

Shiro was grinding his teeth angrily by now, balling his hands into fists and digging his nails into his palms, “Okay. That’s pretty much everything that happened, so why don’t quit wasting time and go kick his ass?!”

Mephisto chuckled, folding his hands in front of his face, “Oh, Shiro, you’re too gutsy for your own good.”

Shiro was ready to grind his teeth down to nothing.

The demon sighed heavily, “You said he’s too dangerous? So, say we find him. How do you think he might respond to a platoon of exorcists chasing him down with aggressive intent?”

“He’d attack, and maybe flee…”

“And Yuri reports he left quite the path of chaos in his wake?”

Shiro exhaled, “Yeah. I suppose he’d just tear everything apart while we try to weaken or capture him.”

Mephisto nodded soberly.

“And that would put a lot more people at stake, too. This isn’t exactly an isolated area…” Yuri murmured thoughtfully, “But, Sir Pheles?”

He perked up, “Yes, Miss Egin?”

“Do you really think he’s Satan?”

Mephisto snorted, barely holding back another bout of laughter before fixing Yuri intensely in his gaze, “Absolutely.”

“What do you sense from him? You can sense his nature, then, right?”

“I can. That is my father if anything is.”

Shiro dug his hands into his chair, desperately fighting the urge to lunge at Mephisto and pound him to dust right then and there, “You jackass! Why didn’t you tell us?! Don’t you think that’s important information to have when we were working so closely with that _thing_?! I _knew _you were hiding something!”

Mephisto gave no more than an insincere smile.

Yuri was looking decidedly unsettled as well and got to her feet, stepping forward and slamming her hands on Mephisto’s desk, “With all due respect, _Samael_, Shiro’s right. If you can sense it now, you definitely knew before and you deliberately failed to inform us.”

Mephisto remained still, fangs now bared dangerously, “Careful, my lady. I was not perfectly sure of his nature until recently. You all had it under control, and should news have gotten out too soon, I’m sure you can imagine the storm it would have caused.”

Yuri refused to shrink back, considering this and sharply holding his gaze, “I don’t think that’s a sufficient excuse.”

Shiro tensed and watched the exchange, hand drifting to hover over the pistol at his side as he braced to intervene.

Yuri noticed him move from the corner of her eye, “Stay back, Shiro.”

He obeyed reluctantly, not taking his eyes off them.

Mephisto shrugged nonchalantly, “What? You know how fast gossip spreads around here. And really! I didn’t know the full situation, I swear! He’s not been in Assiah until recently, so none of us have any experience with him. All we sensed is something big, really big.”

Yuri narrowed her eyes at him.

“That’s all I have to say!” Mephisto feigned indignance.

With a huff, she finally slackened and backed off, “I still don’t fully buy it.” She stepped back to her chair and dropped into it, “Thank you anyway.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, “See what I mean, Yuri? Impossible. Whatever. Mephisto, what do you think we should do, since you’re advising against a search?”

Mephisto flashed that Cheshire grin at him, leaning back and clasping his hands in front of one knee, “I think you can figure it out just fine. We’ll surely be receiving further orders from the Grigori, but for now we’re tasked with keeping things, well, hush-hush, if you will.”

Yuri twiddled her thumbs, thinking, “Hmm… well, to be honest, I doubt he will just leave peacefully. It’s possible, but I really don’t find it likely. He’ll have to come out eventually.”

Mephisto brightened up, listening intently, “Yes, yes, indeed.”

“And when that happens, we can handle it from there.”

Shiro interjected, “He’ll likely be weakened at that point and come crawling out for help, anyway, right?”

“Mm…you both may be on to something. Sharp minds! I trust you will handle anything that happens just fine. In the meantime, return to your normal duties. No need to report to Section 13 until further notice, and I’ll keep you both updated with any news or further orders,”

Shiro and Yuri nodded sternly.

Mephisto clicked his pen rapidly, swinging side to side in his chair, “Right! That’s all I needed from you two today. Thank you for your report, and best of luck out there!”

The two exorcists got their feet, dipping their heads to Mephisto.

Yuri eyed him sharply, “We’ll await any more information and keep an eye out. Have a good evening, Sir.”

Shiro grunted something noncommittal, “Yeah. Keep us in the loop. Seeya.”

“Both of you… but mostly Shiro,”

“Hm?” they turned before leaving the office.

Mephisto stared them down darkly, “Don’t do anything reckless. Understood?”

“Roger that.” Shiro grumbled with a wave, pulling the door open and stepping out.

Yuri nodded, “Understood. Good day.”

“You as well, my feisty little duo!”


	14. Lemon and Nutmeg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the revelation of Yuri's pregnancy and mounting chaos and questions from the rest of the Order, both Shiro and Mephisto are finding themselves frazzled in one way or another. Shiro isn't willing to wait around to get information and start planning. Mephisto isn't willing to be nagged by some petulant whelp with his hands full enough already. 
> 
> Meanwhile, an unexpected meeting has Shiro questioning whether having drinks with demons is becoming a bit of an expanding habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nutmeg and lemon are in reference to two sorts of scented geraniums. Nutmeg geranium can mean "I expect a meeting", and lemon geranium signifies an unexpected meeting.

_1995 _

The chaotic din of shouting and nervous bustling of exorcists seemed like a moment in unreality. Shiro was still, staring blankly in the direction Yuri had been hastened off in, a nervous chill making him second guess just passing her off like that to be taken who knows where.

“_Fujimoto, get over here!_”

The call went ignored.

Shiro jerked his attention to at a flash to his side. Mephisto had appeared and dipped his head curtly to him, then sighed, looking upward almost listlessly.

“Looks like quite a mess, huh?” he murmured.

“_Oh, thank goodness. Sir Pheles showed up. Call him over!” _

Shiro felt his eye twitch, “Yeah, no shit. Where are they taking Yuri?”

The corner of Mephisto’s mouth turned up just noticeably enough, “She’ll be alright. They’ll be doing an exam to make sure she wasn’t injured, not that that’s necessary.”

“_He’s talking with Father Fujimoto. What do we even report?!” _

The priest furrowed his brow, “What?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Of course she’s safe.” Those slit pupils dilated for a fleeting moment.

“How can you be so sure? Satan flared up, and we had twenty odd exorcists just blindly opening fire on both of them! She nearly passed out not fifteen minutes ago!”

“_Let Fujimoto handle it, he’s probably giving his report, anyway.” _

“Well, come think of it,” Mephisto glanced at him from the corner of his eye, finally turning his head to Shiro, “Yuri Egin was pregnant.”

“_Huh?!_” Shiro felt the blood drain from his face, a new wash of rage and confusion settling in his chest and twisting a hard knot in his gut.

A raised hand stilled the priest before he could dive into a tirade of questions, “Let me finish. She can’t be harmed for just that reason. Since she’s carrying a demon’s child, she’ll be protected by a cradle barrier.” he scratched at his chin, “So no need to worry.”

Shiro prickled, “The hell do you mean ‘_no need to worry_’!? You’re telling me that _thing _had his way with her? How is she _not _in danger!? That’s barring the rest of the Order having a heyday with this…can’t you pretend to take this seriously?”

Mephisto blinked slowly, exhaling in exasperation, “Breathe, Shiro. You’re right to be concerned about that, but why don’t we focus on action now that we’re in all this hot water rather than wasting precious moments? I have a lot of damage control to tend to, and I’m sure you will quickly find your hands full, too. Go make yourself useful. I’m calling a meeting at the Vatican shortly, so I’ll update you after that’s taken care of and I’ll ensure you can see Yuri if it really matters so much to you. Sound good?”

“Whatever, I’ll help, but I want answers now, and I mean _now._” Shiro practically spat the words out, grabbing Mephisto by the wrist and tightening. A puff of smoke and his hand was empty, Mephisto now standing nonchalantly a few feet out of reach.

“I don’t have time for that right now. I said, go make yourself useful. I will update you later.” Mephisto stated flatly, a dangerous look crossing his face and sending a chill through Shiro.

Shiro sighed roughly, “Okay. But I want to meet up tonight. Have the Toki out. I’ll be needing more than usual.”

“I don’t know how tied up I’ll be. No more out of you. _Get to work._”

“Oh, for…” Shiro deflated, the demon already gone, “…nevermind. Everyone! Settle down and shut up! We need to stay organized!”

Shiro grumbled in exhaustion as he finally trudged into the monastery, Seishiro and Naoya at his heels. Almost as quickly as the door clacked shut behind them, the phone rang. With an irritated grunt, Naoya hurried over to take it.

“Hello?”

“_Oh, Kyouda, is that you? Good work today!_”

“Sir Pheles? Oh, uh, thank you. Do you have updates for tomorrow?”

“_No, whatever orders you have now still stand unless you hear otherwise. Just be ready, and pass that on. I’ll likely have more to tell you all by morning. I need to talk to Shiro, though, if he’d be so kind.”_

“Yeah, one moment.” Naoya craned his neck to Shiro, who was just finishing pulling off his boots, “Phone for you, Fujimoto. It’s Sir Pheles.”

Shiro let out an exasperated groan as he sauntered over, stretching his arms high above his head with a grimace, “At this hour? Alright, alright, one second.” he nodded to Naoya as he took the phone from him, “Yeah, what do you want?”

Seishiro snickered as he wandered past, heading towards his room.

“_I have updates. Are you alone?_”

“Uhh,” Shiro watched as Naoya disappeared around the corner and listened for the click of his door, “Yeah, am now. Shoot.”

“_I called a meeting with the Grigori and the other higher ups in the Order. Things are, well, messy to say the least. The current plan is to try and keep things quiet as much as we can while dealing with all of this, and to keep stalling._”

“Okay, yeah, I expected that much. But what about Yuri? And what are they doing with Satan? There’s no way they can contain him for long.”

_“His body and mind are very degraded, according to the most recent reports. He’s been taken to the Romania Lab under the care of Dr. Eminescu, but you didn’t hear that from me.” _

“He’s _what?_”

Mephisto swore under his breath, “_Just, nevermind that for now. We’ll discuss it later. As for Egin, she’s safe for now, as you saw. I didn’t get the chance to stop by. How is she holding up?_”

Shiro grit his teeth, running his hand through his hair, “She’s distraught, to say the least. But…she wants to keep the child. She wouldn’t listen to me.”

_“Kukuku~ I figured that would happen. That’s why I was calling. I know things are all helter-skelter right now, but if you could make a free moment for yourself, we need to meet and get our next steps in order. Come see me at 11 tomorrow morning.” _

“I’ll be there. And you’d better be ready to talk.” Shiro replied acidly.

There was a muffled crinkle of papers being shifted about from the other end, “_Excellent! I look forward to it. Great work today, go get some rest. I apologize for calling so late and keeping you up! It must be hard on you._”

“Oh, spare me your pity. It’s fine. Goodnight.” He set the phone down, letting his hand linger there as let out a long sigh. Tomorrow morning was simply too far away. After a long moment, he straightened up, cleaned off his glasses, and went to pull his boots back on. Knowing Seishiro and Naoya might worry if they found him gone, he pulled a pen and a piece of scratch paper out of his pocket and hastily scrawled a note.

_Called out by Sir Pheles to handle a few more things. Back whenever. Don’t wait up._

_-Shiro_

After a quick dash down the hall to leave the note on the kitchen table, he hurried back and stepped out the door into the mild night air, lighting up a cigarette for the journey.

Tomorrow truly wouldn’t do.

Reaching the entrance of the imposing manor, Shiro pulled out his newest key. He wasn’t quite sure whether to feel flattered at being trusted with a key to a demon king’s nest, as he considered it, but regardless, he wasn’t complaining, especially now. It was mildly irksome that it was, by all accounts, just a regular key, but Shiro knew well he’d be quickly abusing the ability to pop in from any old place. Mephisto certainly knew this, too. Besides, there needed to be _some _challenge to getting an audience with a king. Mentally preparing for a long and troubling conversation, he finally unlocked and shouldered open the heavy door and was greeted by an unusual stillness as he stepped in. The couple times he’d used the key so far, Belial or Mephisto would still appear quickly to greet him and escort him around.

Tonight, no one came.

He wandered down the main hall, footsteps echoing against the ornate walls. Mephisto was probably expecting him. Surely, he’d be waiting as usual, Toki and all. He had to be.

He craned his head into the sitting room and flicked the lights on. Empty. With a huff, he carried on, finding the staircase and heading towards Mephisto’s office. The door was cracked and the lights were on, but still, the room seemed empty.

“Mephisto?” he stepped in further to make sure he hadn’t missed him, glancing around the room and making a point to scan the ceiling, “You can stop playing around. I need to talk to you _now._”

Nothing.

Shiro muttered bitterly to himself and turned on his heel, pulling the door back to its former state. Maybe his bedroom was a good bet. _Probably got distracted by some game and conveniently forgot the world existed again._ Padding down the hall that took him there, he kept alert, unnerved by the silence that filled the enormous building. He turned the metal knob and nervously pushed the door open. A dim, warm looking lamp had been left on, but there was no demon to be found and his bed was left in disarray. Suspicious, he sauntered over.

“Alright, jackass. Get up.” He tugged at the blankets, hoping for that lanky form to tumble out. Again, nothing, save for an inordinate number of plushies.

Frustrated, he made his way back into the hall, wracking his brain for where else he might be hiding out for him. Maybe in that practically useless observatory? It was worth a look, at least. He turned to walk back in the direction of the stairs, only to jump as Belial appeared from a side hall.

Shiro froze, “I-I-I, uh, good evening, Belial.”

Belial bowed curtly, “Ah, good evening, Father Fujimoto. I’m sure you’ve found my master absent.”

“Y..yeah, where is he? And why weren’t you at the door?”

“He’s still handling matters with all the recent fuss. And simple, I don’t think you could cause much trouble.”

There was a threatening edge to that last sentence that Shiro wasn’t keen on pursuing, “Right. Did he say when he’d be back? I need to talk to him.”

“You’re not the only one.” Belial sighed, “And no, he didn’t tell me when he expected to return. I imagine it would be by morning, though, but it is hard to say.”

“He said he would be meeting me tomorrow at 11.”

“Then he will return by then.”

Shiro nodded, “Yeah. This is frustrating.”

“My master tends to be.”

“Tch, tell me about it.” Shiro looked off to the side, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “I’m staying until he gets back, though. Just letting you know.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve spent the night.”

Shiro felt his ears burn, noticing the playful bite in Belial’s voice. He refused to incriminate himself further by questioning that, though, “Yeah. Where can I wait?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Wait, really?”

“I know what you’re thinking, and yes. If we do not want you to access something, you simply will not.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes. That was definitely threatening, but expected, “I’ll wait in his office, then.”

Belial nodded, falling into step beside him.

“I don’t need an escort.”

The demon said nothing.

Shiro grumbled under his breath, but kept moving, slumping onto the couch in the office when they arrived. Belial was already fiddling at a cupboard off to the side.

“Father Fujimoto, would you care for a drink while you wait? I can bring you some food as well.”

Shiro waved a hand, “Nah, I went out with the guys a few hours ago and damn near ate myself to death. Besides, Mephisto’s only given me gas station snacks and instant ramen. What would you even give me?”

“Anything you’d like.”

An eyebrow went up in disbelief, “Anything?”

“You’re a guest, so of course.”

He pondered this a moment, scratching his neck, “Yeah, no, there’s definitely a catch there.”

“There is none.”

“Not buyin’ it. But on the off chance you’re being honest, I do appreciate the offer, and for the record, that makes you ten times nicer than Mephisto. I will take you up on the drink, though.” He snorted, rolling his shoulders and stretching his legs before settling back into the couch.

Belial nodded, “My master tells me you usually have Toki when visiting.”

“I’m really more of a beer guy, but it’s grown on me,” Shiro replied, “So, yeah.” 

Belial was already a few steps ahead and handed Shiro his glass of whisky before turning to leave. Shiro thanked him brusquely, watching him head for the door. Come to think of it, this was the first time he’d spoken to Belial outside of simple pleasantries, and perhaps this was an opportunity for information. At worst, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little distraction to ease the passing of minutes that now dragged out like hours.

“Hey, Belial?”

The demon turned attentively, “Yes?”

“Have a drink with me.”

“It would be a pleasure, but I do have work to tend to soon.” He stated flatly and stepped back over to pour himself a glass. He settled in the chair adjacent to Shiro.

Shiro took a small sip and tried to relax, but nothing seemed to work. Now that he had Belial’s time and attention, he wasn’t even quite sure how to begin any kind of useful conversation. Finally, he made a fumbling start, “So… chaos, huh?”

“It seems so.”

“Do you ever really get involved in, well, things like this? Uh, Order stuff.”

“I simply do what my master needs.”

“That’s pretty broad.” Ruddy eyes narrowed in sharp suspicion.

Belial nodded, taking a drink, “My duties are broad.”

Shiro smirked, “Same here, heh. Given he’s in charge of me, too, I guess we could both say it’s a sorry existence getting bossed around by him, right?”

Belial almost seemed to smile over his glass, but it was anyone’s guess whether he actually did, “That depends.”

“He’s probably got you on orders not to badmouth him, anyway. I don’t know what I’m trying to commiserate with you for.” Shiro sighed.

“He does not.” Belial stated matter-of-factly, “I give you that he is ruthless when necessary, and that he does have his eccentricities. Many of them, even by demon standards.”

“That’s obvious. But…” Shiro chewed at his lip, unsure of how foolhardy it was to proceed, “I hate saying it, but I’m curious about him. What can you tell me about him?”

Belial set his glass on the glass table in front of him, “What would you like to know?”

Shiro mulled this over, rubbing his thumb over the edge of his glass, “Anything, really.”

“You’re very human.” Belial murmured, “I see why my master likes you so much. He’s very contradictory, according to humans, and to some of his siblings. I do not see him as truly discordant, though. His concept is highly nuanced and looks like a mess to the untrained eye.”

“I think I’m starting to see a little of that.”

“You are skilled in broadening your perspective, when you let yourself. At least, that’s what he tells me.” 

“He talks about me?” the priest’s eyes widened.

“Sometimes. He talks about anything that catches his interest. Surely you’ve noticed this.”

Shiro tried to ignore the bizarre butterfly-like flurry that seemed to have taken up residence in his chest, setting up a strange, energetic contrast to the fatigue he’d been doggedly battling since he sat down, “Huh. I guess. But what about you? How did you end up as his butler, anyway? There’s gotta be a good story behind that one. It’s not like you’re some low-level nobody.”

“Correct. But it is not my story to tell.”

Shiro leaned forward with interest, “A-ha! So he _has _got you in a contract or ten!”

Belial took another small sip of his whisky, unruffled, “No. I have no need for contracts to make me abide by what is simply etiquette.”

Shiro was undaunted, “He still definitely has you stuck in some kind of deal, though.”

“That is not your concern.”

“Ugh! You’re just as impossible as him.”

Belial, stoic and poised as ever, eyed him curiously but didn’t respond. Shiro sat back again, the exhaustion creeping back into his bones despite his best efforts to fight it. The alcohol wasn’t helping his eyes feel any less heavy, either.

“At least you’re a bit more pleasant to be around,” he grumbled.

“I’m flattered.” Belial replied coolly, “It’s interesting you’ve grown so closely acquainted with my master. As much as he likes humans, I haven’t seen him voluntarily be so close to one in a long time.”

Shiro barely registered the response, eyes having slid shut, “Mh. Cool.”

He wasn’t quite sure if he heard Belial talk again as sleep took him by force.

Frazzled bustling barely roused Shiro.

“Ach, was ist los?”

Shiro scrunched his face, turning over and burying his face into the back of the couch, trying to tune out the snappy baritone voice.

“Belial! I thought I said not to let the riffraff in!” Mephisto tutted in irritation, “Alright. Up, up with you.”

Shiro grumbled and turned back again, finally making an effort to sit up and blink the sleep from his eyes. He winced sharply at a newfound kink in his neck, bringing a hand up to rub at the smarting vertebrae, “Ugh… you’re finally back, huh?”

Mephisto loomed over Shiro, arms akimbo as he tapped his foot impatiently, “Ach, and you reek of stress and demon blood. Go get washed. You’ve stunk up this whole couch.”

Shiro was finally registering his surroundings, “Wait, Mephisto, I need-“ his words seemed to run into a wall as he found himself lurching and splashing into Mephisto’s tub. The demon chattered on outside the door.

“I won’t interrupt you this time, but you best hurry or you’ll be late for work. You have the gall to break into my house, and then nearly oversleep! There’s lots to do if you want to make our meeting on time. Oh, and how disrespectful if you were to keep your platoon waiting? Goodness, me, am I your superior or your mother?”

Shiro mimed with his hand to Mephisto’s incessant chiding, reluctantly obeying and hurrying to scrub himself down. It wasn’t like he had access to excessively fancy soap every day, and he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to be a vulture about it.

Rinsing himself off, he glanced around the room and snorted in annoyance, “Hey, Mephisto? You still out there?”

Nothing. Of course not.

“Mephisto! You forgot my damn clothes!”

They appeared.

Shiro grumbled under his breath as he toweled off and got dressed, shoving his way into the hall and making a beeline for Mephisto’s office.

The demon didn’t even look up from the stack of paperwork he was rushing through as he entered, “No time. Get to it, I’ll see you in a few hours.” He snapped his fingers. Shiro didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth in complaint before he found himself transported next to a dilapidated building. He heard Naoya, Seishiro, and a few other voices chatting around the corner, and, with a gruff sigh and a strong curse to Mephisto’s existence, made his way over to them.

“Morning, everyone. Let’s hurry up and get started. Oh, and I’ve got a meeting at 11 this morning, by the way, so I’ll be ducking out for a while then unless it’s an emergency. If things are slow, just take a long lunch, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” the small group chorused.

“Great. Anyone receive any updates this morning? Otherwise, our game plan is the same as we talked over yesterday. Let’s get to it and kick some ass.”

The meeting couldn’t come soon enough. Shiro shouldered his way into Mephisto’s office with steadfast purpose at 11 AM sharp and dropped into a chair.

“I’m here. Let’s talk.”

“Nice to see you at the agreed upon time,” Mephisto murmured, signing off on some imposing document before snapping the paper elsewhere, “But I am flattered you waited all night for me and kept Belial company. Am I really so irresistible to you?”

Shiro furrowed his brow in irritation at the demon’s conceited giggle, “Oh, shut up. What’s going to happen? What’s the plan? Who else is involved, and are we waiting on anyone else today?”

Mephisto hummed a few notes to himself, setting his pen aside and folding his hands on the desk, “I’m still gathering forces. Satan is weakened for now, but it isn’t like I trust Dr. Eminescu any more than you not to make the situation worse, so we need to be alert. Hopefully, we won’t need to fret about that. But, Yuri Egin, on the other hand…”

Shiro stiffened at her name, “Yeah. What do we do about that? Last I heard, rumor among the rank and file was that there were plans to attempt an exorcism once she’s given birth, since we’re sitting ducks with this cradle barrier situation. Are you sure there’s no way around that?”

Mephisto nodded gravely, “Unfortunately, no. Cradle barriers are powerful as is, and one of this caliber is not something I’d feel confident tackling without significant risk to both Egin and anyone else we put in the line of duty.”

Shiro blinked, “For once, I actually will take your word on that.”

A dark laugh bubbled in the demon’s chest and he winked cheekily, “Wise of you to trust those with experience in these things. All in all, it’s hard to say what the outcome of this will be, but we should be prepared if the child reacts aggressively.”

Shiro perked up, “You’re saying we should kill it?”

“You could say that,” he sat back in his chair, linking his hands around his knees and swinging to and fro, “But this is likely to be a daunting task and it’s hard to plan effectively.”

“Will Yuri be okay?”

“That’s the hope, but our primary objective is to neutralize the threat.”

Shiro chewed at his nails absentmindedly, “Yeah, I understand.”

“The rest of the Order is calling her a witch, you know.”

“I know. Everyone blames her.” He sighed, rubbing his temples, “I wish we could just rewind everything.”

Mephisto snickered, “We all have wishes, don’t we?”

Shiro shot him a quizzical look, but was cut off before he could say anything else.

“But, I’m recruiting help from the other branches. We’re going to give it our best with what we can, and I made sure I’d receive word from the examinations they are performing on Satan at the Romania lab. If we’re lucky, it will give us more information we can use to hone our plan. The plan is to go full force and do our best to protect Egin, while handling the Nephilim effectively. Like I said, right now there are many unknowns, but there is a high possibility the baby, like its father, will be born wreathed in the blue flame. So, we’ll call this operation Blue Lightning!” he ended the sentence with a flourish and broad grin, flashing his sharp fangs.

Shiro maintained his quizzical expression. The demon drew a breath, curling his fingers around the edge of his chair and resuming playfully swinging back and forth, “To prepare, I’m also gathering weapons that are strong against flame, including the Paladin’s sword, Tizona. But, have you heard of the koma sword?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow curiously and shook his head.

Mephisto continued on with all the energy of an overexcited puppy, “It’s a demon sword and the principal object of worship at the Myo-o Dharani temple. It’s also known as Kurikara. It’s empty at the moment, but has held many flame demons in the past, so it has a great affinity to flame. That said, how would you like to-“

Shiro had gotten to his feet and stepped forward, interrupting Mephisto’s prattling, “I’ll go. And put me on that ridiculous operation!”

Mephisto jolted in surprise, stopping his fidgeting and settling down with a devious smirk, “Mhmhm… You’re being uncharacteristically compliant, I’m surprised.”

Shiro backed up and dropped back into the chair, “I’m doing my job. So, shoot. What do I need to know?”

“I’m still working out the details to the whole operation, so what I just told you is most of the plan so far. You and your platoon will be involved, since you so kindly volunteered. I’ll meet with you all together soon.”

“And the sword?”

“The Myo-o Dharani are based in Kyoto. The timing is not great right now, but we are left with few options. Get your platoon together and I’ll trust you to bring it back safely.”

Shiro straightened up and squared his shoulders, “I’ll prepare and head out as soon as possible.”

Mephisto winked to him with a charming smile, “I always know I can count on you, kleine Shiro~”

“Save the compliments for later. I need to get going.” With a grunt, he started getting to his feet.

Mephisto let out a noise of complaint, “You won’t even stay to have lunch with me?”

“Tch…”

“I’ll tell you more about the Myo Dha, and I’ll hear your ideas for the operation.”

Shiro paused, then nodded once, “Fine. And gimme something more substantial this time, you cheapskate.”

“I’ll treat you to monja, how about that?”

“Good enough for me. Deal.”


	15. Coronilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's just returned from fetching kurikara in Kyoto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short this time, but things are picking up soon. 
> 
> Since we know now that Shiro can heal pretty quick I was like... hmm... how roughed up did he actually get in Kyoto and how long would that have taken him to fully recover from? My need for protective Seishiro is strong though. 
> 
> Coronilla means "Success to you". Their flowers are nearly scentless at night.

Shiro had hardly gotten to the gate of the monastery before freezing, reluctantly checking his pager. Hissing through his teeth, he hurried to get inside and set his bag down before wandering over to the phone. He held up a hand to Seishiro as he entered the room, hushing him before he could utter a greeting.

“Hey, Mephisto? You wanted me to call.”

“_Shiro! Yes, yes. How was Kyoto?_”

“It went fine.” he eyed Seishiro as he spoke, “I was gonna stop by later anyway to debrief.”

“_Excellent to hear. I’ll be awaiting you_~”

Shiro huffed a sigh, “Can you not say it like that? Alright, is 6 okay? I want a second to breathe and settle in before lavishing you with my report.”

“_I guess I can make that work…_” Mephisto hummed, a bit disgruntled, “_But be punctual! I’ll see you this evening~! Thanks for the hard work!” _

“Sure, I’ll be there. Seeya.” He clicked the phone back on the receiver, whipping his head to Seishiro before he could start up, “Yeah, it was a shitshow.”

Seishiro offered a meek smile, “All that bandaging on your head tells me enough. Want a hand changing that?”

Shiro had already started fiddling for a cigarette as he set off for the kitchen, “Mh, I think I got it,”

“You winced just lighting your cigarette. Where else did you get hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a little sore if I raise my arm very high, but it’s whatever. If I’m not fully healed by tomorrow morning, I’d be surprised.”

Seishiro narrowed his eyes, not buying Shiro’s downplaying for a second, “Don’t care, I’m helping. Sit down.”

Shiro shot him an exasperated look, but reluctantly accepted and dropped into a chair, “Fine, but only because I’m dog tired here. I thought this was gonna be some in and out little job, but damn, that whole mountain out there is just crawling with demons. It’s a wonder, really, and that alone isn’t even the half of it.”

Seishiro giggled, digging around in one of his bags for extra gauze, “Well, I’m just glad you made it out in one piece. I almost think you’re unkillable at this point. What else happened?”

Shiro looked off to the side, “Eh, I’ll just get into it later, if I can. This whole ordeal is nuts.”

“Yeah. It really is.” Seishiro murmured, tensing, “I hope everything goes okay. Yikes, these are some really nasty clawmarks… Anyway, how are you feeling? I mean, it’s your friend who’s kind of the center of this, right?”

Shiro shrugged, wincing again when the motion shot another dagger of pain through him, “Oh, oop, shouldn’t have done that… Yeah, yeah. It’s not ideal, but gotta do what you gotta do. I’d rather just handle it and keep everyone as safe as possible, you know?” he knitted his eyebrows as Seishiro dabbed at the gash on his forehead.

Seishiro nodded, “I suppose you’re right. Get something to eat before you see Sir Pheles tonight. I heard he was hoping to have a meeting with all of us early next week, too.”

“Yeah, I will, don’t worry. You fuss too much. All of you, do, really. You and Rick are the worst, though. There’s a reason I’d rather die than have you both in my platoon. It’d be like being coddled by two overprotective moms all the time.”

Seishiro finished securing a new bandage over the wound, standing back to place a hand on his hip with an admonishing expression, though the amused glint in his eyes betrayed him, “If you weren’t so reckless, we wouldn’t have to! And c’mon, I shouldn’t be your caretaker and your underling!”

Shiro laughed softly with him, “You got a point there. I might try and sleep some of this off before I head out.”

“Finally, you got a good idea that isn’t related to battle for once!”

“Bah, shut it, Nagatomo.” He cracked a teasing grin as he got to his feet with a huff and sauntered off, “Thanks, and all that. S’nice of you.”

Shiro strode into Mephisto’s office, pulling the sword off his shoulder. He couldn’t open his mouth before he was cut off.

“You went alone.”

He froze, barely managing to look away as Mephisto stared daggers into him. Something cold inched its way into his chest again and coiled tightly around his heart.

Mephisto narrowed his eyes, stalking closer, “This is the third time now, isn’t it? Your little spat of solo missions. Running off to Aomori by yourself. This? What do you think you’re doing?”

He kept his gaze just past Mephisto, “It’s a pain to get a platoon together.”

“You have one now. A very loyal one, at that.”

“Yeah, and? Maybe I just didn’t want to involve them. You said this was going to be easy, anyway.”

Mephisto made a show of sighing with utmost exasperation before that Cheshire grin practically exploded over his features, “Well, was it?”

Shiro grumbled something under his breath, “No. That mountain was overrun with demons.”

“So, in that case, what did you learn?”

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Let’s not do this, alright? You don’t have to talk to me like a child.”

“Apparently I do when you’re doing the exorcist equivalent of running into traffic.”

Shiro found his chair, ignoring the glass of whisky that appeared in front of him, “Well, it turned out alright. I only got somewhat scratched up, and you didn’t tell me to take anyone. I kind of assumed it was supposed to be confidential.”

Mephisto sat down across from him, “You could have taken Nagatomo. He’s practically your dog at this point.”

“He would have just slowed me down!”

“We know that’s a lie.” Mephisto retorted.

Shiro bristled, “Alright, alright! Do I owe you a blowjob again?” 

Mephisto let his eyes slide shut, humming some unknown tune into a sip of his whisky, “Pssh, only if you’re really so keen. Anyway, always expect the unexpected, Shiro. And always be prepared.”

Shiro snorted and forced himself to drop the argument, now looking the sword over. Cautiously, he unsheathed it to examine it more closely, “So this thing’s kurikara, huh? It’s nicely forged…”

Mephisto’s haughty grin grew just a bit, “Mhmmm, it certainly is,”

Shiro ran a hand along the blade, “…But is this really going to be any use? It’s empty like you said.”

The demon nodded earnestly, “Why would I put you and everyone at Myo Dha through so much trouble if it wasn’t going to be useful?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know, for a laugh at our expense?”

“No room for that right now, unfortunately.” Mephisto huffed, blowing his bangs out of his face, “Alright. You have your mission report?”

“Yeah.” Shiro bent to dig around in his bag, producing the manila envelope and handing it over, “Your eyes only, of course.”

“Glad you remembered.” Mephisto pulled out the stack of paper inside it, flipping through and scanning each page quickly, “Oh, this is interesting. Let’s talk.”

Shiro leaned forward, “At least half the people there were really ill from demonic miasma, and doing jackshit useful about it.”

“How did you learn about that? I doubt they’d be sharing a weakness with a thief. Also, congratulations on being uncharacteristically un-stealthy this go,” he winked teasingly.

Shiro growled, “Look, I was getting my ass kicked and my gun jammed! I didn’t have much of a choice but to make an unwanted grand entrance.”

“Should have brought at least a partner.”

“Well, it’s too late now. Anyway, yeah, I was trying to find the sword after I woke up and chatted with that…uh… what was his name? Tatsuma? Yeah. I was just going to check every door till I came across it and turns out I waltzed right into a sickbay gone wrong. Like I said, it wasn’t like they were getting anything done about it so I took over and got that cleared up, too. Look, I basically did charity work, are you proud of me?” Shiro offered the brightest and fakest grin he could muster.

Mephisto gave him a strangely gentle look, snapping the paperwork away, presumably to his files, “It does show a sense of responsibility, so that’s not bad. And it sounds like you worked very efficiently and made yourself a leader even to those who viewed you as an enemy. Commendable work! Being able to take charge of a difficult situation on the fly like that isn’t a simple feat.”

Shiro looked off to the side, “Heh, it was a simple fix, anyway. Need to know anything else?”

Mephisto shook his head, “That’s all I needed tonight. We’ll go over specifics of the operation at the meeting next week.”

At that, Shiro finally took a swig of his whisky and kicked his feet up onto the small table in front of him, “Then work’s over. How’s it going?”

Mephisto’s eyebrow twitched in irritation at Shiro’s irreverence and he forced a polite grin, “Quite alright, thank you. Get your damn feet off my table.”

“No.”

“Shiro.”

Shiro folded his hands behind his head, fixing Mephisto in one eye, “I thought about it. Nah. I’m comfortable like this.”


	16. Forsythia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Night is drawing nearer and Shiro's worries are only mounting.   
Mephisto has his own concerns, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forsythia can signify anticipation.

“I’m worried.”

“Hmm?” Mephisto trilled insincerely, resting his chin on his hand, “Whatever for?”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but refused to state the obvious. A long silence filled the space between, and while silences had grown easy between them, today it threatened to shatter under its own weight.

The demon finally broke the stillness. Not only was it perplexing to watch him buckle under perhaps the shoddiest excuse of a human emotion he had the misfortune of understanding, but Shiro’s stubbornness was quickly becoming a threat to the operation, should worse come to worst as it likely would. As much as watching the cartoonish hijinks of humans waltzing themselves into perfectly avoidable agony time and again was endlessly hysterical, it wouldn’t do for now. “Mind what you know about honesty to yourself. Knowing when to keep your mouth shut is important, but silence alone does no good to anyone, either.”

Shiro gawked at him for a longer than he cared to admit, clearly ruffled for a moment. He nodded once, then turned away, looking at his feet.

Mephisto ventured again, “Do you have a…problem…with the mission, then?”

Shiro crossed one leg over the other with a thoughtful sigh, shifting his weight in his chair, “No. It’s not exactly ideal, but nothing about these circumstances is.”

“There’s little luck in most draws.”

An eyebrow went up in curiosity, but Shiro accepted this and opted not to press. Mephisto’s knowing look unnerved him even more than usual.

The demon shifted his jaw, seemingly considering something. Shiro had gotten good at seeing through him these days, and it was as interesting as it was irritating. Mephisto studied the man’s face, sharp and soft all at once. Though his eyebrows were knit pensively, his eyes themselves betrayed nothing of the worries he spoke of, “You sure you don’t want a drink, Shiro?”

Shiro nodded sternly, “Yeah. Frankly, I’d love to black out right now, but that’s not going to help anyone. Any day now… we all need to be ready.” He looked off to the window, focusing on nothing in particular.

“Wise of you.” That crafty smile pulled at the corner of Mephisto’s mouth, “You know, you seem to have grown less curious the past few months…”

He shot Mephisto a scathing look, “I’m no less curious, but I think I’ve run out of answers from you that are satisfying enough to be worth making a huge stink about. Thought you’d appreciate the calm.”

“Sure, but there’s a place for all things. I like the way you kept me on my toes, as much of an annoying upstart as you are.” He winked cheekily, settling back into his chair and brushing his bangs from his eyes, “But what have I said about not hiding from yourself?”

Shiro sighed in exasperation, “Shut up, will you?”

“I know what you’re worried about.”

“I know you know!” Shiro spat, “But it doesn’t matter, so drop it.”

Human emotions were quaint and amusing if Mephisto had anything to say about it. Many people went to immense lengths to guard themselves, for better or for worse, but still, some cases remained perplexing. Shiro was one of those. It wasn’t that the demon couldn’t hazard a fairly accurate guess as to Shiro’s reasoning for continuously denying his obvious devotion to Yuri and fear on her behalf, but it was ridiculous to him all the same. At present, it was also rapidly becoming worrisome as a weakness that could jeopardize the whole operation if Shiro wasn’t prepared to face it and channel it appropriately. He rubbed his temples in annoyance. Years of chiding, selflessly helpful chiding, and though Shiro was impressive, he was laid low by the most trivial, basic, perhaps laughable and perplexing of human experiences.

“My dear Fujimoto, with no due respect, you’re an absolute dumbass and pathetically in love, aren’t you?”

Shiro blinked. Mephisto usually kept his tones very separated. For business and ‘lessons’, he spoke formally. For nonsense, then he’d drop the act and quickly become even cruder than Shiro. What angle even was this?

Shiro barely flicked his eyes up to Mephisto after looking away from him again, “Nope.”

Mephisto smiled past his drink at him with half-lidded eyes. That was satisfactory enough, for now. If a man wanted to dig his own grave or bury himself in regrets, he figured it was just another chunk of soap opera drama. And, if the mission failed, well, hail destruction.

The clock ticking across the room bored into Shiro’s awareness, a thunderous and overwhelming beat that threatened to eat him alive. He swallowed with effort, throat unusually dry and chalky.

A glass of water appeared in front of him. Mephisto feigned an apologetic look.

Shiro took a long drink, setting the now empty glass down to stare Mephisto down dangerously, “So, will you be helping?”

Mephisto leered back at him, “I’m always glad to give you my support.” That trickster’s smirk flashed across his face again.

“That could mean anything. I know you.”

He was answered with a tight, ominous grin that invited no further interrogation.

Shiro sighed heavily, “Alright. Well, this is some serious shit, so I’m trusting you know what you’re doing.”

Mephisto chuckled darkly, “All the same to you, captain.”

“Oh, shove it.” Shiro retorted dryly, letting out an amused snort, “You know I’ll make it work.”


	17. Wolfbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit has officially hit the proverbial fan and we're in the thick of the blue night.  
Shiro is stuck feeling bewildered and indecisive in battle for perhaps the first time in his life, and his patience waiting on Mephisto is growing thin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wolfbane can symbolize misanthropy, chivalry, and knighthood. They are also extremely poisonous. The genus name of these flowers, Aconitum, means dart or javelin, and the poison of these plants has been used on arrow tips and other weapons for hunting and warfare.  
Some symptoms of poisoning can include convulsions, confusion, headache, sweating, and dizziness. In large doses, its poison can be fatal extremely quickly.  
Other common names of species in this genus include devil's helmet, blue rocket, woman's bane, monkshood, and queen of poisons. 
> 
> In the poem Metamorphoses, it is said that wolfbane comes from the mouth of Cerberus.

Shiro stayed tense, grimly watching the chaos. At this rate, he wasn’t sure if a Nephilim infant like that _could _tire itself out, and that only made the challenge more daunting. Even as he fought to keep up meticulously scanning for an opening, he found his attention continuously flitting back to Yuri. He let one brief glance linger just a bit more, the nervousness and distress she was obviously battling only renewing his determination. No way did he trust her with anyone here. The Order had shown its colors time and time again. No way was he leaving her side if he could help it.

Shiro had stood by, time and time again.

Not anymore. Not today.

Even still, he wasn’t quite sure what the best course of action was. Of all the reckless, maddening situations and battles he’d found himself in, this was a fray like none other with stakes like none other. His nerves sang and heart pounded. He couldn’t count the number of times he went over the plan for the operation in his head, the number of times he nitpicked every last detail, replayed every scenario he could think of and yet, now, when showtime came and things weren’t exactly as he imagined, he found himself struggling to avoid feeling utterly and entirely lost. Merely observing the onslaught from the panicked nephilim as he tore around the space, leaving cerulean blazes and a growing body count in his wake was enough to give Shiro pause.

For the first time in his life, Shiro was left grasping at the mental straws trying to be decisive. The threat had to be neutralized and nobody seemed to be making even an inkling of headway, but he feared leaving Yuri again could be a death sentence for her, too.

He exchanged a look with Nagatomo, Naoya, and the midwives, but was careful not to lose track of the currently rampaging nephilim. He drew a deep breath, trying to will away the fear, but the adrenaline of watching Yuri be nearly murdered by some jackass with a sword left his hands quivering and his chest fluttering uneasily. Usually, anyone crying irritated him. He wasn’t sure he’d seen Yuri cry many times, and never like this, and rather than annoy him it sent a rage to protect surging through him.

Looking at her was enough to make him feel like his bones were about to turn to dust where he stood. Now was the last time he wanted to feel this baffled.

He thought about the sword over Yuri again and recalled all the times he’d said straight to her face that he didn’t care if she died.

He knew he was lying to himself then. He still wasn’t sure if it was some desperate attempt to drive her off, be it for her protection or his own, some manifestation of his complete and utter lack of faith in other humans, or plain, old fashioned jackassery.

Probably a little of all of the above.

She whimpered behind him. It felt like someone twisted a thousand knives in him, and again, he denied the feelings any leverage. He had to stay calm. He had to stay in control. He’d have a second to act on an opportune moment as long as he kept his head clear. Right?

He kept on watching.

_Oh, great. Abel’s going in. _Shiro curled his lip in disgust while he tracked the flurry of black that was now the paladin bringing Tizona down on the nephilim. He had it all wrong – he was all bravado and rage, no form or planning. Regrettably, the hypocrisy of the thought didn’t evade Shiro. He struggled to push the realization aside.

Was this really the best way?

_Where the fuck is Mephisto?!_

A fierce blue light exploded as the blade seemed to connect with the infant, quickly turning into a blinding heat. Shiro braced himself, tensed to lunge in front of Yuri as a burst of smoke rushed forward, but nothing happened. He blinked, bewildered to see enormous lollipops taking the brunt of the fire as the dust cleared. A white cape fluttered out front of Shiro and the rest of the crew tending to Yuri.

_Well, fucking finally. _

“_Now _you show up?! Damn clown!” Shiro spat derisively.

Mephisto cast a knowing look over his shoulder to the slackjawed humans, seemingly unaffected by the last choked screams from beyond the barrier he’d raised. “The paladin has been annihilated, and operation Blue Lightning is kaput! So, I’ll take over now!”

Shiro grimaced. He wasn’t sure whether he was overcome with a wash of relief, or a massive spike in his concern.

So much for punctuality from the literal king of time. He vowed then and there that if he made it out of here in one piece, Mephisto would be getting a lecture and beatdown and he’d gladly die trying to make that a reality if he had to.

Mephisto waited. The barrier dropped.

The next sight that greeted Shiro made his blood run cold. Abel dropped limply, his face warping and contorting as he reached out for Mephisto and cried out to him. The demon watched impassively, face unimpressed if not entirely unreadable. Blood was now running down Abel’s face, dripping from his eyes and nose over burns and scrapes that marred his skin.

_Father?_ Shiro wanted to scoff. Clearly, Franken was just another clone, a worthless guinea pig like him, right? It almost gave Shiro something to consider. A new block of questions was on deck for the next glass of whisky in Mephisto’s presence. Maybe the glass ought to get smashed on the damn demon’s face.

What Shiro heard next was not the paladin’s voice, the distorted tone snapping him to apprehensive attention. Of course he found them. A shudder ran through Shiro, but he shifted his weight and braced himself, squaring his shoulders in a paltry attempt to become a wall between Yuri and Satan.

“Yuri, Shiro! I found you!”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, taking aim as the demon approached. He ignored the feeling of Yuri and Mephisto observing carefully, their eyes like weights on him.

_Goddamnit, am I supposed to shoot? What good is it even going to do?!_

“-so that’s how it is, huh, Yuri? You two faced bitch!”

Rage surged through Shiro like lightning. If it were possible for the angriest man in the world to reach new levels of fury, that was enough to do it. And yet, when all he wanted to do was blast the bastard full of holes, even if it were futile, he couldn’t move. Those warping blue and red pupils met his and locked him down in place. A coyote in a snare with little to do but snarl and whimper before the trapper closing in for the dispatch.

He kept coming closer, blue flames licking over the lanky body, blood continuing to drip down Abel’s strained features in streams, gobs of the liquid gushing over his lips with every word he forced out in a voice that grew less human and less recognizable by the second. Shiro found the trigger with trembling hands. A new kind of fear wormed its way into his heart - freezing, dense, heavy, and impossible to ignore. His mind screamed for him to hurry up and act, but his body refused to respond, leaving him cold and quaking and helpless as a familiar and unfamiliar hand darted out and knotted in his hair, forcing him closer.

“I guess this won’t be easy after all.” Came the distorted snarl.

Heart hammering and threatening to burst through his chest, Shiro was hit with a realization that only made him shudder harder. He barely managed to wrench his gaze away just in time.

Where had he seen this before?

“This reminds me of the old days-“

As Satan spoke, memories flashed through Shiro’s mind. Mephisto sliding his fingers up through his hair. Eyes that were piercing, trapping him like a snare, boring into him with something alien, knowing, and predatory. These eyes were so unfamiliar, and yet the feeling they shot through him was so close to what he’d felt before.

Satan knotted his fingers tighter, pulling Shiro’s hair and adding pressure, pressing their foreheads together more sternly. Mephisto had done that.

Sure, he’d done it while taking him to bed, but the memory of that knowing, clinical look he gave and the way he growled to him hit him like a bomb in his head:

“_Take me. Now._”

Memories that weren’t his own spliced with the thoughts of Mephisto as Satan snarled out a self-satisfied recount of his attempt to take Okumura.

Shiro gasped. The feeling wasn’t unlike Mephisto pulling him close, the way everything in his movement and demeanor would demand submission and weasel his way into gripping onto every thought and feeling and desire Shiro refused to acknowledge, ripping it into the light, turning it into a pawn.

A sick knot twisted in his stomach.

“You and I are no different. Come on, admit it!”

_Honesty, huh? _

“We’re the same!” Another thick line of blood dripped from his mouth.

Shiro let out a shuddering exhale. He steeled his mind and let himself consider it. He staunchly refused to sink today. Whether it left him confused and sick or not, it didn’t matter – he’d take every stupid little asinine lesson of that clown’s to heart. Right now, this beast that held him shared with him more than he wanted to admit.

Rage. Jealousy. Pain. Want.

Things that ebbed and flowed, but never went away, and so often could threaten to take over and throw any ounce of sense he had overboard into an impossible abyss. Things that settled like tar and poison in his veins. Things he thought for so long were equivalent to strength. Things that left other, softer parts of him forgotten, hidden, buried and perhaps fossilized if they even existed at all.

Yuri thought those lovelier things existed, at least. Maybe that was enough.

But the key was honesty and acknowledgement to allow control. One could only properly and swiftly conquer an enemy they knew.

The memory came again, in Mephisto’s inhuman growl:

“_Take me. Now._”

Shiro swallowed hard. Carefully. Cautiously, he let his guard slip in as controlled a fashion as he could muster. It felt like a chain being snapped.

_Fuck, that hurts. _A surge came that threatened to rend his mind apart in the form of prying claws that scrabbled desperately for a way in. 

He shut the rest down. It was dangerous, alone in what was essentially a locked room with an insurmountable beast.

“Who’s the same as who?!” Shiro barked.

He shared in the shock and surprise. It wracked him, feeling a little too close to being his own reaction.

_Bingo. _

He fought to keep the walls up just long enough, and unabashedly charged into the feeling.

Enraged. Jealous. Terrified. He owned it, quivering hands reaching for his knife. He wouldn’t forget what Yuri seemed to think existed within him, either. A lone, shabby lifeline as he prepared to lean in and recklessly throw himself into a maelstrom.

He kept steeled against the desperate scrabbling in his head.

“_Take him. Now._”

“I’d rather die, you bastard!”

He dragged the blade across his throat in a deft movement.

Another wave of shock wracked through him. He pushed it away, forced it to feel far off. He faltered, just for a second, voice stolen out from under him. It was a bizarre feeling, almost as alien and unsettling as being torn from himself and waltzed across space and time in some weird astral projection acid trip nightmare.

“I’m human! I learned how to love!”

_Fuck. Please, Yuri, tell him off- I need a hand here-!_

It wasn’t unlike being tossed about by stormy waves, Shiro fighting to hold onto himself like someone gasping for air before being crushed beneath the weight of the raging, unsympathetic water.

“That isn’t love…”

Yuri’s voice pierced through to him. Hope from himself, and far away, some crushing rage and indignation. Shiro fought his way back to the forefront of his own mind, now consciously weaponizing the fury that took him, “-So get lost!”

The pressure fled from him like a rush of air being shoved from his lungs, leaving him slumping to the ground. Still shaking, he struggled to his feet. Mephisto watched, cracking a teasing but approving smirk.

That knot came back, almost stronger than the blazing pain across his neck. 

He wasn’t sure whether to feel disgusted, grateful, or angry.

How much did he know? How far ahead could he see?

It was a question he hadn’t asked. It was something Mephisto had hardly alluded to, except in the form of dropping lessons into ordinary interactions.

Was that why he took an interest in him? Just to groom him for this bullshit?  
It wasn’t like he mistook a moment between them to mean anything to a demon, but what did he even fuck him for?

It left him shaken, at the least, but he pushed the onslaught of thoughts aside. Now it was time to focus on Yuri. Mephisto could be barraged with questions and beaten to smithereens later.


	18. Hellebore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is meant to be a continuation of Mephisto and Shiro's conversation in ch. 119.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellebore flowers symbolize a scandal.   
Some species are also known as "Winter rose" or "Christmas rose" - fitting for the wintry timing! Species that flower in early spring are known as "Lenten roses".   
All Hellebore species are toxic to some degree. There's also some neat folklore surrounding this fascinating genus of plants!

Shiro grit his teeth, ready to grind them down to the gums. The tension was already bringing on a dull headache, but merely seeing the smarmy sharp-toothed grin and anticipation etched on Mephisto’s face was more than enough to accomplish that. He caught himself pressing the twins more tightly against his chest.

“You’ll crush them.” Mephisto stated, a good show of feigned concern, “So, would you rather do that and be done with this, or fulfill your end of our little bargain?”

Shiro slackened, questioning whether socking this jackass in the face and dealing with the inevitable consequences would be worth it right now. Unfortunately, probably not.

Mephisto snickered through a tight-lipped smile, narrowing his eyes at Shiro and folding his hands as he waited expectantly for him to speak. This had to be good. The conversation thus far had already been excellent entertainment.

Shiro huffed, adjusting Yukio on his arm, “You’re really going to hold a decision I made as a stupid kid over me?”

Mephisto was chipper as ever, sweeping his arms wide, “Absolutely! You were no idiot, wet behind the ears or not. Besides, think of the fuss you would have surely kicked u p if I insisted you weren’t ready to make a decision for yourself. Furthermore, and most importantly, _I warned you._”

“But-“

Mephisto kept going, “I told you, explicitly, that you would swear fealty to the Order and be its dog. I plainly stated that your choice was a far cry from a ticket to freedom. Did I not?”

Shiro wanted to scream down the sky and tear apart every last overpriced thing in this godforsaken office. Deal or not, he questioned how much he could fast forward to the ‘ripping Mephisto’s throat out’ part of things, “How the _fuck _was I supposed to know what that meant?”

Mephisto put his hands up and shrugged, “I used quite plain language. I figured even a child with the slightest ability to reason could understand. It was never rocket science or riddles, kleine Shiro – it was a deal in simple terms and you agreed to it. Make your choice.”

That dark glint that crossed his absinthe eyes, the one that always sent a chill down Shiro’s spine and told him the demon was quickly growing impatient. Today, it had an extra air of finality to it that had Shiro swallowing with effort and deflating. He was all too aware of the warmth of the twins in his arms, Rin wriggling a bit closer to him.

“Okay. I accept your terms.”

“Splendid! I’m sure you’re very exhausted after all this, but we have much to discuss.” Mephisto steepled his fingers, “I’ll be generous. Belial will watch these sweet babes for you while we chat. How does that sound? It’ll be perhaps your only break in a long, long time.”

Shiro looked at Rin and Yukio. Rin wriggled in his sleep again, flexing his little fingers, “Alright. Fine. But I want them back.”

Mephisto’s eyes widened in amused interest, “You do, now? But I thought it was so much trouble!”

A snarl pulled at his lip, “Am I supposed to entrust them to the hands of _demons_?”

Mephisto cackled, smacking his desk. He made a vague gesture as he composed himself. A few moments later, Belial stepped in.

“You needed me, my lord?”

Mephisto nodded, one more giggle slipping out, “Yes. Could you watch these two for a little while? I need to talk with Shiro about some important matters, and I simply can’t have his attention divided. Besides, with the mouth on him, it’d be nice to spare these little ones all the obscenities he’s sure to be spitting my way in short time. A matter of principle, really.”

Belial’s expression didn’t betray it, though he was mildly puzzled and not entirely sure how confident he was with this task; however, it wasn’t as if there was a choice. He nodded and stepped over to Shiro, carefully taking Rin and Yukio into his arms.

“Be careful with them.” Shiro hissed under his breath.

Belial raised a puzzled eyebrow and grunted an affirmative before dipping his head to both of them and ducking back out of the office, letting the door click shut behind him.

“Be careful with them. Is that what you said?” Mephisto snorted mockingly.

Shiro rolled his eyes with a sigh, “Just shut up. If you want to talk business, let’s get it over with. I’m in no mood after the absolute maelstrom I’ve been through. It’s not like a demon would understand, though.”

“There’s a lot on your mind. Understandably so,”

“A lot more! What the absolute fuck was any of that? Do you think I didn’t catch on to what you’ve been doing all these years?! And now I lost the only friend I ever had and you’re trying to pin the blame on her and let me off scot free?”

“You caught on quite last minute, actually,” Mephisto purred, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

Shiro narrowed his eyes at the demon, “How much did you know? How far ahead could you see? I’m not taking a vague answer this time.”

Mephisto sighed, “Well, sit down and make yourself at home, then.”

Reluctantly, Shiro obeyed, doing his utmost to be rebellious about it.

“Fancy some Toki?”

“Not now.”

Mephisto pouted, “A pity. I was coming to enjoy sharing drinks with you over the years. Oh, well, suit yourself.”

“Answer me.”

The mood in the room shifted rapidly, dropping to something much graver and setting a new tension in the air. Mephisto adjusted in his chair and met Shiro’s eyes, noting with amusement how he flinched as he did, “I have not been hiding from you. I can only use probability and extrapolate possibilities based on experience and patterns. Humans and demons alike, anything in the universe, really, is awfully predictable when you learn how to watch quietly.”

Shiro was looking for a weak point, some way to break through and catch him in a lie, “And you thought it was just fine to seduce me to prepare me for all this?”

Mephisto shrugged again, unfazed, “It wasn’t specifically for this particular situation, if I’m being completely upfront with you. Regardless of how things played out, I did need you to hurry up and come to grips with yourself and learn some more discipline if you wanted to be of any use to yourself, me, or anyone. Besides, getting you in bed was perhaps the simplest way to get your full and undivided attention. Your lust may be the only thing that can cut your anger to ribbons, or, at the very least, briefly overshadow it. Besides, it was riotously fun! Wouldn’t you agree?”

Shiro grit his teeth again, “Damnit. I should have seen through this from the start.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I did want you for the sake of yourself. If you weren’t fun and interesting, there’s no way I would have even dreamt of touching you.”

“Guess I should’ve made myself more boring, then. Then maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“Absolutely not! That would detract from what makes Assiah so fascinating. A real net negative, worm though you are!” Mephisto shook his head theatrically, “Anyhow, how else are you holding up, my brave knight?”

Shiro slackened, trying to push away the tears that stung at his eyes as Yuri crept back into his mind despite his best efforts to the contrary, “Not well. I fucking lost Yuri.”

“Nothing is permanent,” Mephisto sighed, almost wistfully, “Especially not life.”

“She just dropped. She was laughing one moment… What, did you have something to do with that? I saw that stupid smirk, you asshole! Death is your kin, after all.”

Mephisto pursed his lips, eyes thoughtful, “Mm, a shame, really. But for the best. She’d be little more than demon bait even if you could have saved her, to put it flatly-“

“What?! So you di-“

Mephisto flicked his hand up, slamming Shiro’s mouth shut, “It’s nice to see all that angry spunk back! I’ve dearly missed it. But hush. I don’t have much patience right now. No, I did not. You need to understand that she endured severe physical trauma in birthing Satan’s offspring. Running off with her and putting her through further effort and exertion surely couldn’t have helped, could it?”

Shiro blanched, sucking down a shallow breath. Guilt came crashing back down like a wave, “I…I…”

Mephisto let out a soft sigh, tutting at the pitiful look on Shiro’s face, “I will level with you. It was a far better end than what she would have met with the Order. Cherish your memories. I have little else to impart on the matter. Now, will you talk business with me?”

Shiro nodded somberly, numb and hazy. In truth, talking anything but business would be preferable right now, but what option was left? “I don’t want to. But, okay. Let’s get it over with.”

Mephisto flashed rows of dagger teeth in a tight smile, “Excellent. So you have indeed made your choice, yes?”

He nodded again, finally flicking his eyes up to meet Mephisto’s and mustering all the burning focus and resolve he could. It made his heart freeze, searing him through with memories of Satan gripping into his hair and staring straight through him, the way both he and Mephisto could so effortlessly bore right down into his mind and leave him feeling utterly naked and terrified, “Y-yes. I’ll take on the role of Paladin. I’ll swear fealty to the Order and raise the twins. But I will do my damndest to change this godforsaken place.”

“Do what you will. You’re not a fool.” Something in Mephisto’s tone seemed approving.

A pause.

Mephisto spoke again, “Shiro, could you come here?”

Shiro blinked, “Why?”

“Come here.” His tone invited no further questioning. Shiro stood and came around his desk, making a futile attempt to search Mephisto’s face for any hint of what might be coming. A cold tightness settled in his chest.

“I am glad you are a man of your word,” Mephisto murmured, “I would also like you to swear fealty to me.”

“What?!”

“The others in the Order will not be so understanding of this situation should word get out you are raising the children of Satan, much less that I am letting them be raised, well, fairly normally. I have no reason to believe they would give me the benefit of the doubt in seeing their potential as weapons against Lucifer and Satan, either. I want your allegiance and secrecy in this matter.”

Shiro met his eyes again and understood. He tightened his lips, hesitating, “Very well. I don’t trust you, though.”

“Clever man. Please give me your hands.”

Shiro watched curiously as Mephisto snapped and produced a small dish of oil, “What is this, my ordination all over again?”

A low laugh rumbled in Mephisto’s chest as he removed his gloves and took each of Shiro’s hands in turn, rubbing oil into his palms, “You are a new man today, Shiro Fujimoto. You have just endured fire and ashes and immense agony. You have died to yourself. You have fulfilled a covenant and now make another, a deal to develop holy weapons in the interest of Assiah,” he met Shiro’s eyes with a darkly amused intensity, “And you are now a father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I've gotten this fic where I wanted it. I'm glad what we got in recent chapters lined up so nicely with my plans! 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and enjoyed this. This is the first fic I've ever finished and actually posted, and it's been a lot of fun to get back into the swing of writing.   
Once again, thank you! I cannot express how much I appreciate everyone's support!


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